Th. 


Chevalier  d'Auriac 


BY 


S.  ^VETT  YEATS 

AUTHOR   OF  "THE   HONOUR  OF  SAVELLI  " 
ETC. 


J        J  J  J 

>   \  > 


1  »  -    »  ,    J    J       > 


NEW   YORK 

LONGMANS,   GREEN,  AND   CO. 

LONDON  AND   BOMBAY 
1897 


Copyright,  1896  and  1897, 
By    S.    LEVETT    YEATS 


AH  rights  reserved 


First  Edition,  .March,  1897 
r.eprln'f  ed,  a<ugu£t,  and  september,  1807 

«   *   t*«  •   •   •  •,. 


TROW  DIRECTORY 

PRINTING  AND  BOOKBINDING  COMPANY 

NEW  YORK 


THE  CHEVALIER   D'AURIAC 


TO   THE 

CHUMMERY   OF   THE    PALMS 

I  DEDICATE  THIS,    IN   MEMORY   OF   CERTAIN 
RED-HOT   DAYS 

S.    L.   Y. 


PREFACE 

This  story,  like  its  predecessor,  has  been  writ- 
ten in  those  rare  moments  of  leisure  that  an  Indian 
official  can  afford.  Bits  of  time  were  snatched 
here  and  there,  and  much,  perhaps  too  much,  re- 
liance has  had  to  be  placed  on  memory,  for  books 
there  were  few  or  none  to  refer  to.  Occasionally, 
too,  inspiration  was  somewhat  rudely  interrupted. 
Notably  in  one  instance,  in  the  Traveller's  Bun- 
galow at  Hassan  Abdal  (Moore's  Lalla  Rookh 
was  buried  hard  by),  when  a  bat,  after  making 
an  ineffectual  swoop  at  a  cockroach,  fell  into  the 
very  hungry  author's  soup  and  put  an  end  to 
dinner  and  to  fancy.  There  is  an  anachronism  in 
the  tale,  in  which  the  writer  finds  he  has  sinned 
with  M.  C.  de  Remusat  in  ''  Le  Saint-Barthelemy.'* 
The  only  excuse  the  writer  has  for  not  making 
the  correction  is  that  his  object  is  simply  to  en- 
able a  reader  to  pass  away  a  dull  hour. 

Umballa  Cantonments, 
March  i6,  1896. 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER   I.  PAGE 

The  Justice  of  M.  de  Rone, i 

CHAPTER   n. 

M.  de  Rone  Cannot  Read  a  Cypher,       .        .        .        .  ig 


CHAPTER   III. 
The  Red  Cornfield, 30 

CHAPTER   IV. 
The  Chateau  de  la  Bidache, 45 

CHAPTER   V. 
A  Good  Deed  Comes  Home  to  Roost,      ....      67 

CHAPTER   VI. 
'Green  as  a  Jade  Cup,' 8i 

CHAPTER   VII. 
Poor  Nicholas! loi 

CHAPTER   VIII. 
Monsieur  de  Preaulx,         .        .        .        .        .        .        .113 

CHAPTER   IX. 
The  Master-General, 125 


X  CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  X.  PAGE 

An  Old  Friend, 146 

CHAPTER   XI. 
A  Swim  in  the  Seine, 167 

CHAPTER   XII. 
Monsieur  Ravaillac  does  not  Suit,         .        .        o        .    183 

CHAPTER   XIII. 
The  Louvre, 196 

CHAPTER   XIV. 
Under  the  Limes, 217 

CHAPTER   XV. 
The  Hand  of  Babette, 235 

CHAPTER  XVI. 
A  Council  of  War, , ,        .        .    252 

CHAPTER   XVII. 
Ma^tre  Pantin  Sells  Cabbages,         ..,,.•     267 

CHAPTER   XVIIL 

The  Skylight  in  the  Toison  d'Or,  .        .        .        .281 

CHAPTER   XIX. 
'  Plain  Henri  de  Bourbon,' 294 

CHAPTER   XX. 
At  the  Sign  of  '  The  Toison  d'Or,'         ....     312 


PRELUDE 


I. 

In  no  secret  shrine  doth  my  Lady  sleep, 

But  is  ever  before  mine  eyes  ; 
By  well  or  ill,  by  wrong  or  right — 
By  the  burning  sun,  or  the  moon's  pale  light — 

Where  the  tropics  fire  or  the  fulmar  flies, 
In  rest  or  stormful  fight. 

II. 

Good  hap  with  the  strong  fierce  winds  that  blow ; 

Man  holdeth  the  world  in  fee. 
By  the  light  of  her  face,  by  my  Lady's  grace, 

Spread  we  our  sails  to  the  sea. 
With  God  above  and  our  hearts  below, 
Fight  we  the  fight  for  weal  or  woe. 

in. 

Good  hap  with  the  strong  fierce  winds  that  blow, 

God  rest  their  souls  who  die  ! 
By  my  Lady's  grace,  by  her  pure,  pale  face 
My  pennon  flies  in  its  pride  of  place ; 

Where  my  pennon  flies  am  I. 

IV. 

Nor  wind  nor  storm  may  turn  me  back, 

For  I  see  the  beacon  fire. 
And  time  shall  yield  a  hard  fought  field. 
And,  with  God's  help,  an  unstained  shield 
I  win  my  heart's  desire. 

S.  L.  Y. 

(  Vanity  Fair.) 


THE    CHEVALIER    D'AURIAC 


^  CHAPTER  I 

THE   JUSTICE   OF    M.  DE  r6nE 

^Mille  diables!  Lost  again  !  The  devil  runs  in 
those  dice  ! '  and  de  Gomeron,  with  an  impatient 
sweep  of  his  hand,  scattered  the  little  spotted 
cubes  on  to  the  floor  of  the  deserted  and  half- 
ruined  hut,  wherein  we  were  beguiling  the  wea- 
riness of  our  picket  duty  before  La  Fere,  with  a 
shake  of  our  elbows,  and  a  few  flagons  of  wine, 
captured  from  Monsieur  the  King  of  Navarre,  as 
we,  in  our  folly,  called  him  still. 

A  few  days  before  we  had  cut  out  a  convoy 
which  the  Bearnais  was  sending  into  the  be- 
leaguered town.  Some  of  the  good  things  the 
convoy  bore  found  their  way  to  the  outposts ; 
and  on  the  night  I  speak  of  we  had  made  such  play 
with  our  goblets  that  it  was  as  if  a  swarm  of  bees 
buzzed  in  my  head.  As  for  de  Gomeron,  he  was 
in  no  better  case,  and  his  sun-tanned  face  was 
burning  a  purple  red  with  anger  at  his  losses  and 


2  THE   CHEVALIER  D'AURIAC 

the  strength  of  the  d'Arbois,  both  of  which  com- 
bined to  give  a  more  than  usually  sinister  look 
to  his  grim  and  lowering  features.  In  short,  we 
were  each  of  us  in  a  condition  ripe  for  any  mis- 
chief: I  hot  with  wine  and  the  fire  of  five-and- 
twenty  years,  and  de  Gomeron  sullenly  drunk,  a 
restrained  fury  smouldering  in  his  eyes. 

We  had  been  playing  by  the  light  of  a  horn 
lantern,  and  as  the  flame  of  it  flickered  to  and  fro 
in  the  wind,  which  bustled  in  unchecked  through 
a  wide  gap  in  the  wall  of  the  hut,  where  the  re- 
mains of  a  door  clung  to  a  bent  and  twisted  hinge, 
the  shadow  of  de  Gomeron  on  the  wall  behind 
him  moved  its  huge  outlines  uneasily,  although 
the  man  himself  sat  silent  and  still,  and  there  was 
no  word  spoken  between  us.  Hideous  and  dis- 
torted, this  phantom  on  the  wall  may  have  been 
the  soul  of  de  Gomeron,  stolen  out  of  the  man's 
body  and  now  hovering  behind  him,  instinct  with 
evil ;  and  this  conceit  of  mine  began  to  appear  a 
reality,  when  I  turned  my  glance  at  the  still  fi- 
gure of  my  companion,  showing  no  sign  of  life, 
except  in  the  sombre  glitter  of  the  eyes  that  gazed 
at  me  steadily. 

I  knew  little  of  de  Gomeron,  except  that  he  was 
of  the  Camargue,  and  had  followed  the  fortunes 
of  d*Aumale  from  Arques  to  Ivry,  from  Ivry  to 
the  Exile  in  the  Low  Countries,  and  that  he  held 
a  commission  from  the  duke  as  captain  in  his 
guards.  He  carried  a  *  de '  before  his  name,  but 
none  of  us  could  say  where  his  lands  lay,  or  of 
what  family  he  came ;   and  it  was  shrewdly  sus 


THE    JUSTICE   OF  M.    DE  RONE  3 

pected  that  he  was  one  of  those  weeds  tossed  up 
by  the  storms  of  the  times  from  the  deep  where 
they  should  have  rotted  for  ever.  There  were 
many  such  as  he,  qanaille  who  had  risen  from  the 
ranks ;  but  none  who  bore  de  Gomeron's  reputa- 
tion for  intrepid  courage  and  pitiless  cruelty,  and 
even  the  hardened  veterans  of  Velasco  spoke  with 
lower  tones  when  they  told  of  his  deeds  at  the 
sack  of  Dourlens  and  the  pillage  of  Ham.  Of  our 
personal  relations  it  is  enough  to  say  that  we 
hated  each  other,  and  would  have  crossed  swords 
ere  now  but  for  the  iron  discipline  maintained  by 
de  Rone — a  discipline  the  bouquet  of  which  I  had 
already  scented,  having  escaped  by  the  skin  of  my 
teeth  after  my  affair  with  de  Gonnor,  who  trod  on 
my  toe  at  the  General's  levee,  and  was  run  through 
the  ribs  at  sunrise  the  next  morning,  near  the  pol- 
lard elms,  hard  by  the  Red  Mill  on  the  left  bank 
of  the  Serre. 

Up  to  the  time  this  occurred  I  had  been  at- 
tached to  de  R6ne's  staff,  with  ten  or  twelve  other 
young  gentlemen  whose  pedigrees  were  as  long  as 
their  swords;  but  after  the  accident  to  de  Gonnor 
— my  foot  slipped  and  I  thrust  a  half  inch  too 
low — 1  was  sent  with  the  stormers  to  Laon,  and 
then  banished  to  the  outposts,  thinking  myself 
lucky  to  escape  with  that. 

At  any  rate,  the  outpost  was  under  my  com- 
mand. Imagine,  therefore,  my  disgust  when  I 
found  that  de  Gomeron  had  been  detached  to  ex- 
amine into  and  report  upon  my  charge.  He  did 
this  moreover  in  so  offensive  a  manner,  hectoring 


4  THE   CHEVALIER  D'AURIAC 

here  and  hectoring  there,  that  I  could  barely  re- 
strain myself  from  parading  him  on  the  stretch 
of  turf  behind  the  thorn  hedge  that  fenced  in  the 
enclosure  to  the  hovel.  The  very  sight  of  that 
turf  used  to  tempt  me.  It  was  so  soft  and  springy, 
so  level  and  true,  with  no  cross  shadows  of  tree 
trunks  or  mottled  reflections  of  foliage  to  spoil  a 
thrust  in  tierce. 

Our  feelings  towards  each  other  being  as  they 
were,  it  would  seem  odd  that  we  should  have  diced 
and  drunk  together  ;  but  the  situation  was  one  of 
armed  peace  ;  and,  besides,  time  had  to  be  killed, 
as  for  the  past  week  M.  de  Rethelois,  formerly  as 
lively  as  a  cricket,  had  kept  himself  close  as  a  nun 
of  Port  Royal  behind  the  walls  of  La  Ffere,  and 
affairs  were  ineffably  dull.  I  was  certain,  how- 
ever, that  we  should  soon  break  into  open  quar- 
rel, and  on  this  night,  whether  it  was  de  Gome- 
ron's  manner  of  losing  or  whether  it  was  the 
d^Arbois  I  cannot  tell,  but  I  felt  a  mad  anger 
against  the  man  as  he  sat  staring  at  me,  and  it 
was  all  I  could  do  to  restrain  myself  from  flinging 
the  lees  of  the  wine  in  my  glass  in  his  face  and 
abiding  the  result.  I  held  myself  in  with  an  ef- 
fort, drumming  with  my  fingers  on  the  table 
the  while,  and  at  last  he  spoke  in  an  abrupt  and 
jarring  voice : 

*  What  says  the  score  ?' 

I  looked  at  the  once  blank  card  on  which  I  had 
jotted  down  the  points  and  passed  it  to  him  with 
the  answer:  *  One  hundred  and  twenty  livres  of 
Paris,  M.  Gomeron.* 


THE   JUSTICE   OF  M,  DE  RONE  5 

*■  De  Gomeron,  if  you  please,  M.  d'Auriac.  Here 
is  your  money,  see  it  is  not  Tournois,'  and  he  slid 
a  rouleau  across  the  table  towards  me.  I  made 
no  effort  to  take  it ;  but,  looking  at  the  man  with 
a  sneer,  gave  answer :  *  I  was  not  aware  that  they 
used  the  de  in  the  Camargue,  monsieur/ 

*  Young  fool ! '  I  heard  him  mutter  between  his 
teeth,  and  then  aloud> '  Your  education  needs  ex- 
tension, Chevalier/ 

*  There  is  space  enough  without/  I  answered 
hotly,  laying  my  hand  on  my  sword,  *  and  no  time 
like  the  present ;  the  moon  is  at  her  full  and  stands 
perfectly/  We  sprang  to  our  feet  at  these  words 
and  stood  facing  each  other.  All  thought  of  de 
Rone  had  flown  from  my  mind,  my  one  desire 
was  to  be  face  to  face  with  the  man  on  that  patch 
of  turf.   Peste  !  I  had  much  to  learn  in  those  days ! 

We  stood  thus  for  a  second,  and  then  a  short 
mirthless  *  Ha !  ha ! '  burst  from  de  Gomeron,  and 
he  made  a  turn  to  the  corner  of  the  room  where 
his  rapier  leaned  against  the  wall.  It  was  at  the 
moment  of  this  action  that  we  heard  the  quick 
challenge  of  the  sentry  outside,  the  password  as 
sharply  answered,  and  the  tramp  of  feet. 

The  same  idea  flashed  through  both  our  minds 
— it  must  be  the  General,  and  de  Gomeron  gave 
expression  to  the  thought. 

*  Corbleu  !  de  Rone  perhaps — the  old  bat  on  the 
wing.     We  must  defer  the  lesson.  Chevalier.' 

I  bowed  and  bit  my  lips  in  silence ;  there  fol- 
lowed a  shufflrng  of  feet,  and  before  a  man  could 
count  two,  Nicholas,  the  sergeant  of  our  picket, 


6  THE   CHEVALIER  D'AURIAC 

with  a  file  of  men  entered  the  hut,  thrusting  a 
couple  of  prisoners,  a  man  and  a  woman,  before 
them. 

'  Two  birds  from  La  Fere,  my  captain,'  and 
Nicholas  with  a  salute  to  de  Gomeron  pointed  to 
his  prize.  *  We  took  them,*  he  ran  on, '  at  the  ford 
near  the  Red  Mill,  and  but  for  the  moon  they 
would  have  gone  free;  spies  no  doubt.  The  old 
one  is  M.  le  Mouchard,  I  swear.  There  is  fox  in 
every  line  of  his  face ;  and  as  for  Madame  there 
— so  the  old  gentleman  calls  her — in  time  1  war- 
rant she  will  learn  to  love  the  camp  of  the  Holy 
League,'  and  the  sergeant  pushed  the  lantern  so 
that  it  shone  full  on  the  lady's  face.  A  curious 
light  came  into  de  Gomeron's  eyes  as  he  looked 
at  her,  and  she  shrank  back  at  the  sergeant's 
words  and  action,  whilst  the  old  man  strained  at 
the  cords  that  bound  his  wrists  till  the  lines  of 
the  blue  veins  stood  high  out  on  his  forehead. 
The  soldiers  had  shown  Madame  this  kindness, 
that  she  was  unbound;  but  her  hood  had  fallen 
back,  loosening  in  its  fall  a  mass  of  chestnut  hair, 
and  from  this  framework  her  eyes  glanced  from 
one  to  another  of  us,  half  in  fear  and  half  in 
anger. 

*  Messieurs ! '  There  was  a  tremble  in  the  sweet 
voice,  and  there  was  light  enough  to  see  her  co- 
lour come  and  go.  'Messieurs!  That  man,' she 
made  a  little  gesture  of  infinite  disdain  towards 
Nicholas,  *  is  lying.  We  are  no  spies.  It  is  true 
we  are  from  La  F^re,  but  all  that  we  did  was  to 
try  and  escape  thence * 


THE    JUSTICE   OF  M.   DE  RONE  7 

*To  the  camp  of  the  Bearnais — eh,  madame?' 
interrupted  de  Gomeron. 

*  To  the  camp  of  the  King  of  France,'  she  flashed 
back  at  him,  a  red  spot  rising  on  each  cheek. 
'Messieurs!'  she  went  on,  *  you  are  gentlemen, 
are  you  not?  You  will  let  us  go.  Surely  the 
Holy  League  wars  not  with  women  and  old 
men?' 

The  mention  of  the  League  stirred  her  com- 
panion and  he  gave  tongue : 

'  The  Holy  League  ! '  he  exclaimed  with  a  sa- 
vage scorn.  '  Madame,  though  we  stand  delivered 
unto  these  sons  of  Belial,  I  must  speak,  for  my  heart 
is  full.  Yea !  Shall  my  lips  be  sealed  before  the 
enemies  of  the  Lord !  The  Holy  League  !  Ha ! 
ha !  There  is  no  Holy  League.  It  died  at  Ivry. 
There  did  the  Lord  God  break  it  clean,  as  of  old 
He  shattered  the  Amorites  of  the  mountains. 
Lo!  Even  now  His  own  champion  is  at  hand,  and 
ere  the  morrow's  sun  sets  he  shall  smite  these 
men  of  sin  hip  and  thigh,  as  when  the  Chosen 
slew  His  enemies  in  Gibeon.' 

*  Corps  du  diable  !  A  rope  for  the  old  Hugue- 
not ! '  exclaimed  Nicholas. 

*  Thou  swearest  rightly,  villain,'  and  the  fanatic 
glared  at  the  sergeant  with  fierce  eyes.  '  Swear 
ever  so  by  thy  master,  for  thou  art  in  truth  a  limb 
of  the  body  of  Sin.' 

*  Thou  shalt  roast  like  a  chestnut  over  a  log  fire 
for  this,*  roared  Nicholas,  shaking  his  halberd  at 
his  adversary.  *  And  thou  in  Hell,'  was  the  un- 
daunted reply  ;  *  and  the  smell  of  thy  burning  will 


^  THE   CHEVALIER  D'AURIAC 

be  as  the  scent  of  a  savoury  bakemeat  to  the  Lord 
my  God/ 

So  savagely  prophetic  was  his  tone  ;  so  fierce  a 
glance  did  the  bound  Huguenot  cast  at  Nicholas 
that  it  burnt  to  cinders  any  reply  he  might  have 
had  ready  and  reduced  him  to  a  speechless  fury. 

Madame  shivered  slightly  ;  but  meeting  my  eyes 
and  the  repressed  laugh  in  them,  a  faint  smile 
parted  her  lips.  This  was  for  an  instant  only,  and 
her  face  was  grave  enough  as  she  turned  to  her 
companion,  speaking  with  a  quiet  dignity,  *  There 
is  a  time  for  everything,  mon  pHe — at  present  your 
speech  is  a  trifle  out  of  place/ 

The  beetle  brows  of  the  Huguenot  met  together 
as  he  gave  reply — 

*  There  is  no  place  which  is  out  of  place  to  tes- 
tify  '  but  here  de  Gomeron  cut  in    with   his 

quick  stern  voice,  '  Be  silent,  sir !  or  else  a  gag 
will  stop  your  tongue,*  and  then  with  a  bow, 
*  Madame,  it  goes  to  my  heart  to  detain  you  ;  but 
war  is  war,  and  we  have  no  option.  Will  you  not 
be  seated  ?  All  that  this  poor  hut  affords  is  yours,' 
and  he  bent  low  again,  perhaps  to  hide  the  expres- 
sion in  his  eyes. 

She  made  no  effort  to  take  the  chair  he  offered, 
but  burst  out  passionately  : 

*  Monsieur,  I  see  you  command  here,  and  it  is 
to  you  to  whom  I  must  appeal.  Monsieur,  I  give 
you  my  word  of  honour  we  are  no  spies.  The 
rules  of  war  allow  the  ransom  of  prisoners,  and 
anything  you  name  will  be  paid.  Monsieur,  I  pray 
you  let  us  go.' 


THE    JUSTICE   OF  M,    DE  RONE  9 

Whilst  she  spoke  my  glance  rested  on  de  Go- 
meron's  face,  and  I  saw  that  his  eyes  were  drinking 
in  her  beauty  greedily,  and  there  was  a  look  in 
them  that  recalled  to  my  mind  the  stories  of  the 
sack  of  Ham. 

As  she  finished  her  appeal  Madame  turned  to- 
wards the  captain  with  a  gesture  of  entreaty  ;  but 
in  this  movement  she  too  saw  that  in  his  voice  and 
manner  which  paled  her  cheek  to  marble,  and  she 
made  a  half-irresolute  step  towards  her  compan- 
ion as  if  for  protection.  De  Gomeron  observed 
this,  and  laughed  under  his  heavy  black  mous- 
tache, and  I  felt  that  the  strong  wine  and  his  evil 
heart  were  moving  him  to  an  atrocious  deed. 

'  Vertu  de  Dieu  !  Madame,  but  there  are  some 
things  which  have  no  price  !  And  there  is  no  ran- 
som you  could  name  which  would  tempt  Adam 
de  Gomeron  to  part  with  his  prisoners — with  one 
of  them  at  any  rate.  You  are  no  spy,  I  know  : 
such  eyes  as  yours  were  never  made  to  count  the 
strength  of  battalions.  As  for  your  friend  there, 
we  have  means  to  make  him  tell  us  all  about  him- 
self to-morrow  ;  and  you,  ma  mignonne,  must  not 
bruise  your  tender  feet  by  walking  through  the 
night  to  the  camp  of  Monsieur — the  King  of 
France.  In  a  day  or  so,  perhaps,'  he  went  on 
with  a  horrible  smile,  '  but  not  to-night.  Come ! 
and  he  stepped  up  to  her.  Come,  taste  the  d'Ar- 
bois — it  is  from  your  friends — and  learn  to  love 
the  poor  soldiers  of  the  Holy  League.' 

Saying  this  he  attempted  to  pass  his  arm  round 
her  waist,  but  slipping  from  his  grasp,  and  her 


lO  THE   CHEVALIER   D'AURIAC 

cheeks  aflame,  Madame  struck  him  across  the  face 
with  the  back  of  her  hand,  such  a  stroke  as  the 
wing  of  an  angry  dove  might  give. 

The  rest  was  done  in  a  flash,  and  de  Gomeron 
reeled  back  with  bleeding  lips,  staggered  back  to 
the  very  end  of  the  room,  where  he  would  have 
fallen  but  for  the  support  of  the  wall.  It  was  in 
me  to  follow  up  my  blow  by  passing  my  sword 
through  the  man,  so  mad  was  I  in  my  fury  ;  but 
luckily  for  him  Nicholas  hung  on  my  arm  and 
saved  the  villain's  life.  He  righted  himself  at 
once,  and  passing  his  hand  across  his  mouth, 
spoke  to  me  quite  coolly  and  collectedly,  but  with 
livid  features. 

*  We  finish  this  outside,  sir;  follow  me,*  and 
picking  up  his  rapier,  which  lay  on  the  table, 
where  he  had  thrown  it  on  the  entrance  of  the 
prisoners,  de  Gomeron  stepped  out  of  the  door. 
In  the  excitement  of  the  moment  the  men  poured 
after  him,  and  I  was  the  last  to  follow.  It  came 
to  me  like  lightning  that  the  prisoners  were  un- 
guarded, and  slipping  my  dagger  from  its  sheath, 
I  thrust  its  haft  into  Madame's  hand,  and  I  saw 
that  she  understood  from  the  thanks  in  her  eyes. 
As  I  went  out  I  heard  the  voice  of  the  Huguenot: 
'  They  shall  die  as  they  have  lived — by  the  edge 
of  the  sword  ;  and  the  Lord  shall  confound  His 
enemies.* 

It  was  but  a  stone-throw  to  the  stretch  of 
green,  which  extended  as  level  as  a  tennis-court 
for  a  hundred  paces  or  so,  and  then  sloped  gently 
downward  towards  the  junction  of  the  Serre  and 


THE    JUSTICE   OF  M.    DE  RONE  II 

the  Oise.  Beyond  rose  the  walls  of  La  Ffere, 
whose  grey  outlines,  lit  up  here  and  there  by  the 
flare  of  a  lamp  or  fire,  were  clearly  visible  in  the 
bright  moonlight.  So  clear  was  this  light,  that  I 
could  distinctly  make  out  the  blue  flowers  of  the 
patch  of  borage,  which  lay  between  the  hut  and 
the  thorn  hedge,  beyond  which  de  Gomeron  was 
awaiting  me.  When  I  came  up  I  found  him  stand- 
ing with  his  back  to  the  moon.  He  had  thrown 
off  his  doublet,  and  was  in  his  shirt  sleeves,  which 
were  rolled  up  to  his  elbows,  and  Nicholas  and 
the  men  stood  a  little  on  one  side,  utterly  forget- 
ful of  the  prisoners,  and  eager  as  bloodhounds  to 
witness  the  coming  fight.  It  took  but  a  half 
minute  to  make  myself  ready,  and  borrowing  a 
poniard  from  Nicholas  to  help  me  to  parry,  for  de 
Gomeron  held  one  in  his  left  hand,  and  I  was 
determined  to  give  him  no  further  advantage — 
he  already  had  the  light — I  took  my  position. 
Then  there  was  an  angry  little  clash  and  our 
blades  met,  looking  for  all  the  world  like  two  thin 
streaks  of  fire  in  the  moonlight.  I  began  the  at- 
tack at  once  in  the  lower  lines,  but  soon  found 
that  my  adversary  was  a  master  of  his  weapon, 
and  his  defence  was  complete.  We  were  both 
sober  enough  now,  besides  being  in  deadly  ear- 
nest, and  de  Gomeron  began  to  change  his  tactics 
and  attack  in  his  turn.  He  was  more  than  cun- 
ning of  fence,  thrusting  high  at  my  throat  to  get 
as  much  of  the  reflection  of  the  moon  as  possible 
on  his  blade,  and  so  dazzle  my  eyes  ;  but  this  was 
a  game  I  had  played  before,  and  seeing  this  he 


12  THE   CHEVALIER  D'AURIAC 

disengaged,  and  making  a  beautiful  feint,  thrust 
low  in  tierce.  The  parry  was  just  in  time,  but 
the  point  of  his  blade  ripped  me  exactly  over  the 
heart,  and  dyed  my  shirt  red  with  the  blood  of  a 
flesh  wound.  The  discipline  of  Nicholas  and  his 
men  went  to  shreds  at  the  sight  of  this,  and  there 
was  a  shout  s  *  Croix  Dieu  !     He  is  lost ! ' 

But  a  man's  knowledge  is  not  to  be  counted  by 
his  years,  and  Maitre  Touchet  had  himself  placed 
a  foil  in  my  Hand  ere  I  was  seven.  The  hair  that 
stood  between  me  and  death  as  de  Gomeron*s 
point  touched  me  cooled  me  to  ice,  and  knowing 
that  in  a  long-continued  contest  youth  must  tell, 
I  began  to  feign  retreat,  and  give  back  slowly, 
meaning  to  wind  my  opponent,  and  work  him 
round  to  get  a  little  of  the  moon  in  his  eyes.  De 
Gomeron  took  the  bait  and  pressed  his  attack, 
with  the  result  that  he  shifted  his  position  of  van- 
tage, and  in  a  while  began  to  breathe  heavily.  At 
this  point  a  cloud  obscured  the  moonlight,  and 
my  opponent,  springing  back,  called  out :  '  Hold  ! 
hold  till  the  cloud  passes  !     We  cannot  see.' 

*  But  I  can,  messieurs,'  answered  a  deep  voice 
to  our  right.  *  What  means  this  fool's  work?  '  and 
a  tall  figure,  the  white  line  of  a  drawn  sword 
shining  in  its  hand,  stepped  between  us,  coming, 
as  it  were,  from  nowhere.  The  cloud  passed,  and 
the  moon  was  again  brilliant  and  clear.  The  light 
fell  on  the  commanding  form  before  us,  showing 
the  high  aquiline  features  and  grizzled  hair  of  de 
Rone  himself.  Nicholas  and  his  men  melted  into 
thin  air  at  the  sight,  and  de  Gomeron  and  I  stood 


THE    JUSTICE   OF  M.   DE  RONE  1 3 

speechless.  The  wind  caught  the  black  plumes 
in  the  General's  hat,  waving  them  silently  in  the 
air,  and  brought  to  us  the  faint  clink  of  a  chain- 
bit — de  Rone  had  evidently  stolen  upon  us  on 
foot,  leaving  his  horse  at  a  distance. 

*  So  this  is  how  my  outposts  are  kept  ? '  he  said. 
*  M.  de  Gomeron,  you  are  the  senior  officer  here, 
and  I  await  your  explanation.  Mordieu  !  It  is 
something  that  I  do  this.' 

'  I  command  the  guards  of  the  Due  d'Aumale,' 
began  de  Gomeron  sullenly,  but  de  Rone  inter- 
rupted him  in  the  same  deep  measured  voice. 

*  I  know  that.  Your  explanation,  or,*  and  in 
fierce  anger,  '  by  God !  you  will  hang  like  a  com- 
mon thief  by  sunrise.* 

*  A  gentleman  must  defend  his  honour.  Orders 
or  no  orders.  General,  there  are  times  when  one 
must  fight.  There  was  a  matter  in  connection 
with  some  prisoners,  and  I  was  struck  by  M. 
d'Auriac.     I  have  nothing  further  to  say.* 

*Now,  M.  d'Auriac,  what  have  you  to  say?  * 

*  The  prisoners  will,  perhaps,  explain  to  your 
Excellency  why  I  struck  this  man.* 

*  Take  me  to  them.* 

We  gathered  up  our  belongings,  and,  hastily 
dressing,  led  the  way  back  to  the  hut.  What  de 
Gomeron*s  thoughts  were  I  know  not,  but  my  own 
reflections  were  none  of  the  most  cheerful.  We 
all  knew  de  Rone,  and  knew  that,  his  mind  once 
made  up,  nothing  could  turn  him.  De  Gomeron 
had  some  chance  of  escape,  as  of  a  certainty  I  was 
the  open  aggressor;  but  for  myself,  I  saw  poor 


14  THE   CHEVALIER  D'AURIAC 

de  Gonnor  lying  under  the  elm  trees,  taking  his 
last  look  at  the  sunlight,  and  my  heart  became 
like  lead.  But  we  had  no  great  time  for  thought, 
as  a  few  steps  brought  us  to  the  door  of  the  hut, 
where  Nicholas  and  his  men  stood  at  the  salute 
with  scared  faces.  Another  step  took  us  in,  and 
de  Rone,  with  a  curling  lip,  cast  a  glance  around 
the  room,  at  the  emptied  wine  flasks  and  the  dice, 
which  latter  one  of  the  men  had  doubtless  picked 
up,  and  placed  in  a  small  heap  beside  the  rouleau 
I  had  won.  But  chairs,  table,  wine  flasks,  and 
dice  were  all  the  room  contained,  and  there  was 
reason  enough  for  the  extra  length  of  visage  that 
master  Nicholas  and  his  knaves  had  pulled. 

'  I  do  not  see  the  prisoners,*  said  de  Rone 
quietly. 

It  was  not  likely,  I  thought  to  myself.  They 
were  gone — not  a  doubt  of  that.  On  the  floor, 
near  my  feet,  were  some  cut  cords,  and,  lying  on 
them,  a  knot  of  black  and  white  ribbon,  that  had 
fallen  there  as  if  by  chance.  I  had  seen  it  last  at 
the  shoulder  of  Madame's  dress,  and  something 
told  me  it  was  not  there  by  accident.  There  was, 
at  any  rate,  no  hope  for  me  from  the  prisoners, 
but  a  sudden  impulse  I  could  not  understand, 
nor,  indeed,  did  I  try  to,  urged  me  to  get  the 
knot  of  ribbon,  so,  stooping  low,  I  picked  up  the 
bow  and  the  cut  cords,  and,  with  a  careless  move- 
ment, flung  the  latter  on  the  table,  saying  quietly, 
*  They  have  escaped,  your  Excellency.* 

'  And  with  them  your  explanation,  M.  d^Auriac, 
eh?     Corbleu!     But  the  camp-marshal  will  have 


THE    JUSTICE   OF  M,    DE  RONE  !§ 

his  hands  full  to-morrow ; '  and  Nicholas'  halberd 
all  but  fell  from  his  hands  as  the  General's  eye 
rested  on  him.  I  had  nothing  to  say ;  and  de 
Rone  went  on.  *  M.  de  Gomeron,  you  have  given 
me  a  reason  for  your  conduct  that  will  hold  good 
this  once.  Further  orders  will  reach  you  at  day. 
light  about  your  neglect  of  yo\xx  prisoners.  As 
for  you,'  and  he  turned  on  me  with  the  sharp 
command,  '  Follow  me.  You — knaves!  fetch  me 
my  horse — he  is  tethered  to  the  clump  of  elms  to 
the  right  there.' 

Two  men  vanished  from  the  door  to  do  his  bid- 
ding, and  I  adjusted  my  attire  as  well  as  I  might, 
taking  the  opportunity  to  secrete  the  knot  of  rib- 
bon. In  a  minute  or  so  we  heard  the  sound  of 
horses'  hoofs,  and  as  we  went  out,  I  saw  there 
were  two  beasts  at  the  door,  and,  from  the 
whinny  of  welcome  that  came  to  me,  that  one 
was  mine,  and  Nicholas  was  at  his  head. 

As  I  sprang  into  the  saddle  the  good  fellow 
leaned  forward  and  whispered,  *  Make  a  dash  for 
it.  Chevalier,  and  change  the  flag.' 

I  shook  my  head  and  followed  de  Rone,  who 
had  already  moved  a  few  paces  onwards.  And 
yet,  as  I  rode  on,  Nicholas'  words  came  back  to 
me  with  an  insistent  force.  It  was  not  possible 
for  me  to  expect  any  other  issue  than  the  worst, 
after  what  had  happened.  My  big  Norman  horse 
was  fleet  and  strong ;  but  a  turn  of  my  wrist,  a 
touch  of  my  spur,  and  we  should  be  a  hundred 
yards  away  before  de  R6ne  could  realise  what 
had  happened ;  and  then  the  road  was  clear  to 


1 6  THE   CHEVALIER  D'AURIAC 

the  banks  of  the  Lelle,  where  the  King  was  him- 
self ;  yes,  the  King.  He  was  that  to  me,  in  my 
heart,  although  loyalty  to  my  family  and  its 
chiefs  had  made  me  throw  in  my  lot  with  the  lit- 
tle band  of  exiles  who  remained  true  to  the  dead 
legend  of  the  League,  and  preferred  to  eat  the 
bread  of  Spain  rather  than  accept  the  great 
Frenchman  who  had  fought  his  way  to  his  birth- 
right. Even  now,  whispers  were  stirring  the  air 
that  the  end  was  coming ;  that  the  Archduke  was 
sick  of  the  war;  that  d'Aumale  pined  for  his  stately 
park  of  Anet;  that  Mayenne  had  practically  sub- 
mitted, and  the  Guisard  was  himself  unsteady.  If 
so,  why  should  not  I,  Alban  de  Breuil,  whose  crow's 
nest  of  Auriac  was  half  in  ruins,  and  who  reckoned 
an  income  of  a  bare  two  hundred  pistoles,  see  the 
error  of  my  ways  as  well  ?  Behind  me  was  safety. 
In  front,  between  the  nodding  ears  of  my  horse, 
there  dangled  a  vision  of  a  rope  with  a  noose  at 
the  end  of  it ;  and  I  a  noble  ! 

It  was  now  midnight,  and  we  distinctly  heard 
the  bells  of  Ste.  Genevieve  ringing  the  Sexts. 
Thev  came  to  me  with  a  refrain  of  ^  Turn  and 
ride,  Turn  and  ride.'  Mordieu!  but  I  was  sorely 
tempted. 

^Gallop!' 

De  Rone's  sharp  command  broke  the  thread  of 
my  thoughts,  and  ended  all  chance  of  escape.  We 
set  spurs  to  our  horses  and  splashed  through  the 
ford  of  the  Oise,  a  half  mile  from  the  outpost.  On 
the  other  bank  a  picket  challenged,  and,  giving 
them  the  word,  we  rode  in  the  direction  of  the 


THE    JUSTICE   OF  M,   DE  RONE  1 7 

even  white  line  of  the  camp.  A  few  strides  more 
and  we  reined  in  at  the  door  of  the  GeneraFs  tent. 
The  guard  presented  arms  and  I  received  a  brief 
order  to  dismount  and  follow  de  Rone. 

I  entered  the  tent,  and  stood  patiently  whilst 
he  walked  backwards  and  forwards  for  a  little 
time.     Suddenly  he  stopped  and,  facing  me,  said, 

'Well,  M.  d'Auriac?* 

'  It  could  not  be  helped,  your  Excellency,'  I 
stammered. 

'  You  said  that  of  de  Gonnor,  and  promised  it 
should  never  occur  again ' 

'  But  there  were  circumstances ' 


'  Pshaw ! '  he  exclaimed,  '  I  guess  them  all — 
wine — dice — women.  One  of  the  prisoners  was  a 
woman.  I  saw  you  pick  up  that  knot  of  ribbon. 
There  is  no  excuse — Croix  Dieu  !     None.' 

*  I  had  the  honour  to  be  the  first  man  behind 
your  Excellency  at  the  storm  of  Laon,'  I  said, 
with  a  happy  recollection. 

*  And  saved  my  life,  you  were  going  to  say,*  he 
cut  in.  I  bowed,  and  de  Rone  began  again  to 
pace  up  and  down,  tugging  at  his  short  pointed 
beard.  I  was  determined  to  seize  the  three  hairs 
occasion  offered,  and  continued : 

*And  that  was  after  M.  de  Gonnor*s  unfortu- 
nate accident.' 

*  Accident ! '  he  laughed  shortly.  *  And  that  ac- 
cident having  been  condoned,  you  want  to  set  off 
saving  my  life  against  breaking  the  orders  of  the 
General  ?  * 

'  It  will  not  occur  again.' 


1 8  THE   CHEVALIER  D'AURIAC 

'  Croix  Dieu  I  1  will  take  care  of  that.  It  will 
not  occur  again  with  you,  M.  d'Auriac.  See  here, 
I  will  pay  my  debt ;  but  first  ask  if  I  have  your 
parole  not  to  attempt  escape.  If  you  do  not 
give  it — '  and  he  laid  his  hand  on  a  call-bell,  with 
an  inquiring  look  towards  me. 

*  I  will  not  attempt  escape.* 

'  Then  you  will  not  have  to  complain  of  the  jus- 
tice of  de  Rone.  To-morrow  some  things  will 
happen,  and  amongst  them  will  be  the  lamented 
death  of  the  Sieur  d'Auriac.  This  much  I  will  tell 
you.  To-morrow  the  King  and  I  meet  once  more 
— you  must  die  on  the  field.  Win  or  lose,  if  I 
catch  you  alive  at  the  close  of  the  day,  I  will  hang 
you  as  high  as  Haman  ;  and  now  go/ 


CHAPTER  II 

M.  DE  RONE  CANNOT  READ  A  CYPHER 

My  first  thought  on  leaving  de  Rone  was  to 
make  my  way  direct  to  the  quarters  of  the  staff, 
where  I  felt  sure  of  welcome  and  accommodation 
for  the  rest  of  the  night.  These  lay  a  hundred 
toises  or  so  from  the  GeneraFs  pavilion,  facing 
from  me;  but  as  I  came  near  to  them  I  saw  a  pen- 
non of  light  streaming  from  the  partly  open  door 
of  the  largest  tent,  and  from  within  burst  a  chorus 
of  voices  singing  an  old  chanson  of  Guienne. 

Frere  Jacques,  dormez-vous  ? 
Dormez-vous  ?     Dormez-vous  ? 
Sonnez  les  matines,  sonnez  les  matines — 
Bim  !  Baum  !  Baum  ! 

Bim !  Baum  !  Baum  !  The  last  line  was  re- 
peated amidst  peals  of  laughter,  followed  by  the 
crashing  of  glass.  It  was  enough  for  me.  I  was 
in  no  mood  for  any  further  folly,  or  any  more 
d*  Arbois,  and  resolved  to  make  the  best  of  it  in  the 
open,  as  at  this  hour  it  was  worse  than  useless  to 
attempt  to  find  my  lackey  Jacques,  whom  I  had 
left  behind  in  the  camp  with  my  belongings  when 
I  went  on  to  the  outposts.  This  man,  I  may  note, 
was  a  faithful  servant  of  our  house,  rough  of  man- 

19 


20  THE   CHEVALIER  D'AURIAC 

ner,  perhaps,  but  one  who  could  be  trusted  to  the 
end  of  his  sword ;  and  it  was  annoying  to  know 
that  any  search  for  him  would  be  useless,  as  I  had 
a  message  or  so  to  send  to  Auriac,  in  the  event  of 
the  worst  happening.  But  resigning  myself  to 
what  could  not  be  helped  I  found  a  spot  under 
some  peach  trees,  which  was  convenient  enough 
for  my  purpose.  Tethering  my  horse  to  a  stump, 
I  removed  the  saddle,  which  I  made  shift  to  use 
as  a  cushion,  and,  leaning  my  back  against  it,  was 
soon  as  comfortable  as  circumstances  would  per- 
mit. Enough  had  happened  to  drive  from  my 
head  any  of  the  fumes  of  the  d*Arbois  that  may 
have  been  lurking  there.  In  short,  I  was  as  sober 
as  MM.  of  the  High  Court  of  Paris,  and  as  wide 
awake  as  a  cat  on  the  look  out  for  a  mouse.  Do 
what  I  could,  sleep  would  not  come,  and  I  began, 
for  want  of  a  better  thing,  to  reflect  on  my  posi- 
tion. To  act  on  Nicholas'  advice  and  desert  was 
out  of  the  question ;  my  private  honour  was  not 
to  be  smirched,  and  the  few  hours  I  had  yet  to 
live  were  not  to  be  spent  in  the  breaking  of  my 
faith.  A  few  hours  to  live!  Involuntarily  I 
stretched  out  my  arm  and  drew  it  back,  feeling 
the  muscle  rise  at  the  movement.  Good  Lord ! 
It  was  cruel !  When  one  is  five-and-twenty,  and 
strong  as  a  bull,  it  is  hard  to  die.  One  death,  that 
on  the  field,  I  could  face  with  an  equal  mind ;  but 
if  the  chances  of  to-morrow  were  not  kind,  then 
there  was  the  other  matter,  and  the  last  of  the 
d' Auriacs  would  swing  like  a  croquemort  from  the 
branch   of  a  tree.     Morbleu  I     It  was   not  to  be 


M.  DE  RONE   cannot  READ  A    CYPHER    21 

borne,  and  I  swore  that  my  own  hand  should  free 
my  soul,  rather  than  it  should  choke  its  way  out 
to  eternity  at  the  end  of  a  greased  rope.  The 
slight  flesh  wound  I  had  received  from  de  Gome- 
ron  beginning  to  sting  at  this  moment,  I  thrust 
my  hand  into  my  pocket,  and  pulling  out  my  ker- 
chief, placed  it  over  the  spot  With  the  kerchief 
I  drew  out  the  knot  of  ribbon,  and  the  sight  of 
this,  as  I  picked  it  up  and  held  it  between  my 
fingers,  changed  the  current  of  my  thoughts. 
Almost  in  spite  of  myself  I  began  to  think  of 
Madame,  as  I  called  her,  by  the  only  name  I  knew. 
It  was  a  strangely  formal  title  for  one  so  young  ! 
Who  was  she  ?  Some  great  lady  of  the  court, 
perhaps.  The  wife — the  thought  jarred  on  me, 
and  I  put  it  aside,  and  then  grew  cold  all  over  at 
the  recollection  of  the  danger  she  had  escaped. 
At  any  rate,  it  was  my  hand  that  had  rescued  her 
from  her  peril.  If  we  met  again,  it  must  surely 
be  as  friends,  and  it  was  pleasant  to  dwell  on  that. 
As  my  mind  ran  on  in  this  way,  I  noticed  a  pin 
attached  to  the  dainty  bow,  and  at  first  I  had  a 
mind  to  fasten  the  token  to  the  side  of  my  hat, 
saying  half  aloud  to  myself,  'Par  Dieu!  But  I 
will  bear  this  favour  to  the  King  to-morrow,'  and 
then  I  felt  I  had  no  right  to  wear  the  ribbon,  and, 
changing  my  intention  to  do  so,  thrust  it  back 
with  a  half  smile  at  my  folly. 

Gradually  the  moonlight  faded  into  a  shimmer- 
ing mist,  through  which  purple  shadows  came 
and  went;  gradually  the  mist  grew  darker  and 
darker,  and    I   fell  asleep.     My  sleep   could    not 


22  THE   CHEVALIER  D'AURIAC 

have  lasted  much  more  than  an  hour;  but  so  pro- 
found was  it  that  ages  seemed  to  have  passed 
when  I  awoke  with  a  start,  and  the  consciousness 
of  movement  around  me.  The  moon  was  on  the 
wane ;  but  I  saw  that  the  camp  was  astir,  and  that 
the  men  were  being  mustered  as  silently  as  pos- 
sible. 

'  So  things  are  about  to  happen,'  I  said  to  my- 
self, recalling  de  Rone's  words,  and  hastily  sad- 
dling my  horse,  sprang  on  his  back,  and  moved 
towards  the  General's  tent.  All  around  me  was 
the  muffled  tramp  of  feet,  the  jingle  of  chain-bits 
and  steel  scabbards,  the  plunging  of  impatient 
horses,  and  a  subdued  hum  of  voices,  above  which 
rose  now  and  again  a  hoarse  word  of  command, 
as  regiment  after  regiment  wheeled  into  position 
on  the  level  stretch  before  us.  Three  long  black 
lines  were  moving  noiselessly  and  rapidly  towards 
the  Oise.  I  knew  they  were  de  Leyva's  brigade  of 
Spanish  infantry,  veterans  of  the  war  of  Flanders. 
To  my  right  the  occasional  flash  of  a  lance-head 
through  the  thick  haze  that  was  coming  up,  but 
which  the  morning  sun  would  dissipate,  showed 
me  where  the  cuirassiers  of  Aumale  were,  and  I 
thought  of  de  Gomeron  with  regret  that  I  had 
not  finished  him  before  de  Rone's  inopportune 
arrival.  I  had  to  die,  and  it  might  have  been 
some  consolation,  in  such  mood  was  I,  to  have 
sent  Adam  de  Gomeron  on  the  dark  way  before 
me. 

When  I  reached  the  General's  pavilion  de  Rone 
was  just  mounting  his  horse,  a  lackey  standing 


M.  DE  RONE   CANNOT  READ  A    CYPHER    23 

near  with  a  sputtering  torch,  and  his  staff  in  a 
little  clump,  a  few  yards  away.  I  saluted,  and  he 
gave  me  a  keen  look,  saying : 

'  So  you  have  come,  M.  d*Auriac — take  your 
place  with  the  staff.  I  will  give  you  your  work 
later  on — and  remember.* 

'  I  am  not  likely  to  forget,  M.  le  Marquis/  and 
I  moved  off  in  the  direction  indicated. 

*  Is  that  you,  d^Auriac?'  *  Why  have  you  left 
the  outposts?'  ^ Sangdieu !  but  why  did  you  not 
come  to  us  last  night  ? '  *  How  is  M.  de  R6thelois, 
and  have  you  seen  the  abbess  of  Ste.  Genevieve?* 

These  and  suchlike  greetings  met  me  as  I  was 
recognised  and  welcomed  by  de  Belin,  the  young 
Tavannes,  de  Cosse-Brissac,  and  others  of  my  ac- 
quaintance. I  replied  as  best  I  might,  but  there 
was  no  time  for  much  talk,  as  the  General  was 
moving  onwards  at  a  rapid  pace,  and  we  were 
compelled  to  follow  at  once.  I  dropped  a  little 
to  the  rear,  to  husband  the  strength  of  my  horse 
as  far  as  possible,  and  was  joined  by  another  rider. 

^Is  that  you,  Belin?* 

^  Ma  foil  Yes.  It  is  the  devil  being  hustled  up 
so  early  in  the  morning — I  am  yet  but  half  awake.' 

*  I  was  surprised  to  find  you  here.  I  thought 
you  were  with  the  Archduke  and  de  Mayenne.' 

*  What !  have  you  not  heard  ?  * 

*  What  in  the  devil's  name  could  I  hear  on  those 
cursed  outposts?' 

*  Then  in  your  ear — the  R^mois  have  gone  from 
us,  and  de  Mayenne  and  the  Guisard  have  passed 
over  to  the  King.     My  news  is  certain,  and  the 


24  THE   CHEVALIER  D'AURIAC 

Archduke  has  sent  a  cypher  to  de  Rone  bidding 
him  retreat  at  once  on  Amiens.* 

*  But  this  does  not  look  like  a  retreat/ 

'  No ;  de  Rone  has  lost  the  key  of  the  cypher.* 

We  both  laughed,  and  Belin  went  on :  'It  was 
droll.  I  saw  him  receive  the  message,  which  the 
old  fox  must  have  read  at  a  glance.  But  he  turned 
it  this  way  and  that,  and  looking  at  Egmont,  said 
as  calmly  as  possible,  *'  Ride  back  to  Amiens  and 
fetch  me  the  key.  I  have  lost  mine  and  cannot 
follow  the  cypher'* — but  hark!'  and  Belin  inter- 
rupted himself, '  there  is  de  R6thelois*  good  morn- 
ing.* 

Even  as  he  spoke  three  bright  flashes  came  from 
the  citadel  of  La  Fere,  and  the  big  guns  from  the 
bastion  of  Ste.  Genevieve  boomed  sullenly  into 
the  morning.  Then  a  long  streak  of  fire  ran  across 
the  grey  mist,  followed  by  the  angry  crackle  of  the 
petronels,  above  which  the  reports  of  the  bombards 
of  the  trench-masters,  as  they  replied  to  de  Rethe- 
lois*  artillery,  sounded  like  strokes  on  a  war  drum. 

'  Ventre  St.  Gris  !  The  Spaniards  have  drawn 
first  blood,  Belin.* 

*M.  d'Auriac!* 

De  R6ne*s  voice  stopped  any  further  talk,  and 
I  spurred  to  his  side. 

'  My  compliments  to  the  Conde  de  Leyva  and 
ask  him  not  to  waste  time  spitting  at  de  Rethelois 
— tell  him  to  leave  a  sufficient  force  to  hold  the 
garrison  in  check,  and  move  across  the  river  to- 
wards St.  Gobains — report  yourself  to  me  at  the 
ford.' 


M.  DE  RONE   CANNOT  READ   A    CYPHER    25 

I  galloped  off,  and  when  I  reached  the  Spa- 
niard, whom  I  found  with  some  difficulty,  I  discov- 
ered that  he  had  already  anticipated  de  Rone's 
orders,  and  had  besides  almost  cut  off  a  sortie 
from  the  city.  There  was  nothing  for  it,  there- 
fore, but  to  wish  de  Leyva  a  pleasant  day  and  to 
go  on  to  the  ford. 

And  now  a  pale  band  of  orange  stretched  across 
the  east,  and  daylight  rapidly  came.  A  fair  breeze 
sprang  up  with  the  sun,  blowing  the  vapour  into 
long  feathery  clouds  that  rolled  slowly  to  the 
west.  So  heavy  was  the  fire  de  Rethelois  kept  up 
from  the  citadel  that  its  square  keep  was  entirely 
hidden  by  the  smoke ;  but  as  I  rode  towards  the 
ford  down  the  long  slope  that  ended  in  the  Red 
Mill,  I  saw  on  my  right  the  whole  of  de  Rone's 
army,  advancing  to  the  river  in  long  even  col- 
umns, and  on  my  left,  where  they  appeared  to 
have  sprung  up  by  magic,  two  strong  bodies  of 
cavalry,  whilst  behind  them,  marching  as  rapidly 
as  our  own  troops,  and  in  as  perfect  order,  came 
the  men  of  Arques  and  Ivry,  of  Fontaine  Fran- 
9aise,  and  all  the  hundred  fights  of  Henry  of 
Navarre. 

By  this  time  I  had  come  to  the  outpost,  and 
found  the  thatched  roof  of  the  cottage  in  flames, 
the  result  of  a  stray  shell  that  had  dropped  through 
it,  and  blown  down  half  of  the  remaining  walls.  It 
was  clearly  empty,  but  as  I  trotted  past  the  thorn 
hedge  I  saw,  about  fifty  paces  or  so  to  my  right,  a 
single  horseman  under  a  tree.  His  hands  were 
tied  behind  him,  and  a  cord,  which  hung  from  a 


26       '  THE   CHEVALIER  D'AURIAC 

branch  overhead,  ended  in  a  noose  secured  lightly 
but  firmly  round  his  neck.  His  position  was  such 
that  if  the  horse  moved  away  from  beneath  him 
he  would  hang,  and  the  poor  wretch  was  absorbed 
in  coaxing  the  animal  to  remain  steady ;  but  the 
trooper  he  bestrode  had  already  scented  the  com- 
ing battle.  His  ears  were  cocked,  his  tail  held 
out  in  an  arch,  and  he  was  pawing  at  the  ground 
with  his  forefoot.  I  could  not  hear  what  the  man 
was  saying,  but  his  lips  were  moving,  I  doubt  not 
with  mingled  prayers  and  curses,  and  I  could  see 
that  he  was  trying  to  restrain  the  animal  by  the 
pressure  of  his  knees.  Another  look  showed  me 
it  was  Nicholas,  the  sergeant,  and  knowing  there 
was  little  leisure  to  lose  if  the  knave  was  to  be 
saved,  I  put  spurs  to  my  beast  and  headed  to- 
wards him.  I  was  just  in  time,  for  as  I  started 
the  old  trooper  gave  a  loud  neigh,  flourished  his 
heels  in  the  air,  and  galloped  off  towards  the 
enemy,  with  his  mane  and  tail  streaming  in  the 
wind.  A  touch  of  my  sword  freed  Nicholas,  but 
it  was  a  narrow  affair,  and  he  lay  gasping  on  the 
ground,  and  as  he  lay  there  I  noticed  that  his  ears 
had  been  cropped  close  to  his  head,  and  that  the 
wounds  were  quite  fresh.  He  recovered  himself 
in  about  a  minute,  for  the  dog  was  tough  as 
leather,  and  was  about  to  pour  forth  his  thanks 
and  tell  me  how  he  came  in  such  plight,  but, 
sincerely  sorry  as  I  was,  I  had  to  cut  him 
short. 

'  Keep  the  story  for  another   day,  Nicholas,*  I 
said,  *  and  follow  the  example  of  your  horse,  who 


M.  DE  RONE   CANNOT  READ  A    CYPHER    2J 

I  see  is  a  loyal  subject^  and  has  gone  straight  back 
to  the  King.' 

With  these  words  I  spurred  onwards,  leaving 
Nicholas  to  follow  my  advice  or  not,  as  he  listed. 
I  had  gathered  enough,  however,  to  find  out  that 
he  was  a  victim  to  M.  de  Gomeron's  ingenious 
humour.  Little  did  I  think,  however,  when  I 
saved  this  poor  fellow  how  amply  I  would  be  re- 
quited  hereafter. 

I  reached  the  ford  just  before  the  General,  and 
saw  that  our  right  flank  had  already  crossed  the 
river  in  the  far  distance.  Opposite  us  the  Royal- 
ists appeared  to  be  in  some  confusion ;  but  in  a 
moment  they  were  restored  to  order,  and  moved 
steadily  on. 

*The  King  is  there,'  burst  out  Belin,  and  a  grim 
smile  passed  over  de  R6ne*s  features  as  he  nodded 
his  head  slightly  in  token  of  assent.  As  Belin  spoke 
a  group  of  about  half  a  dozen  riders  galloped  from 
the  enemy's  van,  and,  coming  straight  towards  us, 
halted  a  bare  hundred  paces  or  so  from  the  river 
bank.  The  leading  horseman  was  mounted  on  a 
bay  charger,  and  it  needed  not  a  second  glance, 
nor  a  look  at  the  white  plumes  in  his  helmet,  to 
tell  that  it  was  Henry  himself.  Close  beside  him 
was  a  short,  dark,  thick-set  man,  with  the  jewel  of 
the  Order  of  France  at  his  neck.  He  managed 
the  grey  he  rode  with  infinite  skill,  and  with  his 
drawn  sword  pointed  towards  us,  seemed  to  be 
urging  something  on  the  King. 

*  Who  is  that?'  I  asked. 

'The  King's  viper,' answered  Belin,  *  who  will 


28  THE   CHEVALIER  D'AURIAC    ^ 

sting  him  some  day :  do  you  not  know  Biron  ? 
Mordieu  I '  he  added,  turning  to  de  Rone,  *  shall 
we  end  the  war,  General ;  we  could  do  it  with  a 
bit  of  lead  that  wouldn't  cost  the  tenth  part  of  a 
tester  ?  ' 

De  Roae's  brown  cheek  paled  at  the  words,  and 
for  an  instant  he  seemed  to  hesitate,  and  I  could 
well  understand  his  temptation. 

'  No,'  he  replied — '  drop  that,'  he  thundered  to  a 
musketeer  who  was  poising  his  piece,  and  the  man 
fell  back  with  a  disappointed  air. 

'  Peste  I '  grumbled  Belin,  *  we  might  have  all 
been  in  Paris  within  the  week,  whereas  now  it  will 
take  a  fortnight  at  the  least.' 

*  Or  a  month,  or  a  year,  or  never — eh,  Belin,' 
gibed  de  Tavannes. 

*  Do  you  think  the  fair  Angelique  will  be  con- 
stant ? '  asked  another. 

Belin  glanced  at  the  laced  favour  in  his  hat  with 
a  smile,  and  answered :  '  God  bless  our  ladies  ! 
They  know  how  to  be  constant — see  there,  mes- 
sieurs,' and  he  pointed  to  a  single  figure,  mounted 
on  a  barb,  that  rode  out  of  the  French  lines  and 
galloped  forward,  alone  and  unattended,  to  the 
side  of  the  King.  We  saw  as  the  barb  approached 
that  the  figure  was  that  of  a  woman,  and,  more- 
over, that  of  a  very  beautiful  woman.  She  was 
dressed  in  a  hunting  habit  of  dark  green,  with  a 
black  hat  and  black  feathers,  under  which  we 
could  see  the  light  of  her  fair  hair.  As  she  reined 
up  beside  the  King,  Henry  turned  to  her,  as  if  ex- 
postulating, but  she  bent  forward  suddenly  and 


M,  DE  RONE   CANNOT  READ   A    CYPHER    29 

kissed  his  hand,  and  then  with  charming  courtesy 
took  out  her  kerchief  and  waved  it  at  us  in  dainty 
greeting. 

*  *Tis  Gabrielle,  the  Duchesse  de  Beaufort  her- 
self !  *  exclaimed  de  Tavannes,  and  then  gave 
tongue  in  a  ringing  cheer,  which  was  taken  up  by 
us  all,  and  rolled  down  the  long  line  of  battle,  till 
its  echoes  reached  us  from  even  the  furthest 
wings. 

De  R6ne  lifted  his  plumed  hat  in  response  to 
Madame  d'Estrees'  greeting,  and  the  King,  bow- 
ing slightly  to  us  from  his  saddle,  put  his  hand  on 
the  barb's  reins,  and  turning  the  horse's  head,  gal- 
loped his  mistress  to  a  place  of  safety.  As  they 
reached  the  mound  whereon  the  royal  guidon  was 
displayed,  we  heard  the  opening  bars  of  the  Pont 
d'Audemer  march,  and  as  they  ceased  a  red 
tongue  of  flame  licked  out  from  behind  a  cornfield 
and  a  masked  battery  opened  on  us. 


CHAPTER  III 

THE   RED   CORNFIELD 

*  M.  LE  Marquis,  the  Conde  de  Leyva  begs  for 
help  urgently/ 

*  Tell  him  I  have  none  to  give/  de  Rone  made 
answer  from  his  big  black  charger  Couronne. 
'  Sangdieu  ! '  he  added  under  his  breath,  '  had  we 
been  but  three  hours  earlier  the  Bearnais  was  lost/ 

The  words  were  hardly  out  of  his  mouth  when 
the  cavalier  to  whom  they  were  addressed  threw 
up  his  arms  with  a  scream,  and  falling  forward 
from  his  horse,  began  to  beat  at  the  earth  convul- 
sively with  his  hands,  whilst  he  gasped  out  his 
life.  As  the  death  glaze  was  covering  his  eyes, 
his  empty  saddle  was  filled  by  a  figure  that  rose 
up  like  a  sprite  through  the  dim  smoke,  and 
Belin's  even  voice  was  heard. 

*  Poor  Garabay  !  But  my  horse  was  shot  under 
me  an  hour  ago,  and  this  one  will  do  me  excel- 
lently.    Shall  I  carry  your  message,  General  ?' 

*  I  claim  the  honour.  Marquis  ;  do  not  deny  me, 
Belin.  I  have  been  idle  too  long,*  and  I  pressed 
forward  as  I  spoke. 

'  Oh,  I  yield  to  you,  d'Auriac  !  there  is  work 
enough  for  me  at  the  other  end ;  the  bear  of  Au- 
male  is  dancing  to  a  fine  tune  there,'  and  Belin 

30 


THE  RED    CORNFIELD  3 1 

reined  back,  whilst  de  Rone  nodded  assent,  with 
a  meaning  in  his  look  that  I  alone  understood. 

I  needed  no  second  bidding,  but  turning  my 
Norman's  rein,  galloped  down  the  blazing  line  of 
battle.  If  I  escaped  through  the  day,  which  to 
my  mind  was  already  lost,  I  knew  full  well  that 
de  Rone,  smarting  under  disappointment  and  cha- 
grin at  defeat,  would  be  in  no  temper  for  mercy, 
and  would  certainly  keep  his  word  to  me. 

There  was  not  a  doubt  of  it,  but  that  the  issue 
of  the  day  was  at  a  crisis.  On  our  extreme  right 
d'Aumale  and  the  exiles  of  France  were  pitted 
against  the  Huguenot  battalions,  who  went  into 
battle  with  a  hymn  on  their  lips,  and  had  sworn 
by  the  faith  for  which  so  many  of  them  had  died 
never  to  quit  the  field  alive.  Be  sure  they  strove 
bitterly  there,  for  the  hatreds  of  sixty  years  had 
met  face  to  face  on  their  last  field,  and  no  quarter 
was  asked  or  given.  In  the  centre  Bouillon,  the 
Turenne  of  other  days,  and  Biron — men  whose 
very  names  were  victory — led  the  attack,  which 
was  slowly  but  surely  driving  us  back  into  the 
river.  At  one  time  indeed  the  fiery  marshal,  with 
the  exception  of  the  King  perhaps  the  most  brill- 
iant cavalry  leader  of  the  age,  had  all  but  laid 
hands  on  our  standard,  and  so  close  was  he  to  me 
that  I  might  have  counted  the  jewels  of  the  Order 
at  his  neck,  and  clearly  heard  his  deep  '  Mordieu  !  * 
as  he  slowly  gave  way  before  the  desperate  rally 
that  for  the  moment  retrieved  the  day.  But  it 
was  on  our  left  that  the  greatest  danger  lay. 
Henry's  rapid  movement  during  the  night  had 


32  THE   CHEVALIER  D'AURIAC 

forestalled  de  Rone's  plans,  and  had  practically 
shut  in  the  left  wing  of  the  Leaguer  general  be- 
tween two  fires.  For  although  de  Rethelois  was 
penned  into  La  Fere,  yet  his  artillery  had  a  long 
reach  and  galled  us  in  the  rear,  whilst  the  King, 
fully  grasping  the  situation,  opened  a  heavy  fire 
on  our  front,  and  that  terrible  battery  from  the 
cornfield  never  ceased  launching  forth  its  mes- 
sages of  death.  These  guns,  no  longer  hidden  by 
the  tall  corn-stalks,  now  beaten  and  trampled 
down,  and  as  red  as  the  poppies  that  once  starred 
them,  were  in  reality  deciding  the  fortune  of  the 
day.  Twice  had  de  Ley va  in  person  brought  the 
veteran  regiments  of  Almagro  and  Algarve  up  to 
their  very  muzzles,  until  the  men  could  have 
touched  them  with  their  Biscay  pikes,  and  twice 
had  they  been  flung  back,  but  made  good  their 
retreat,  beating  off  the  charge  of  Schomberg's 
reiters  in  so  savage  a  manner  that  the  free  com- 
mander was  unable  to  rally  his  men  for  the  rest  of 
the  day. 

I  let  my  beast  go  with  a  loose  head,  and  there 
was  no  need  of  the  spur  to  urge  him  to  his  ut- 
most effort  as  he  bore  me  to  de  Leyva.  I  found 
him  bare-headed  and  on  foot,  his  face  black  with 
smoke  and  bleeding  from  wounds.  His  toison 
d'or  had  been  shot  away,  though  its  jewelled  col- 
lar still  clasped  his  neck,  and  his  left  arm  hung 
useless  by  his  side.  He  stared  at  me  when  I  gave 
him  de  Rone's  answer,  to  which  I  added  the  news 
that  Garabay  was  dead.  Then  he  laughed 
through  his  cracked  lips — a  laugh  that  seemed  to 


THE  RED   CORNFIELD  33 

stick  in  the  knot  of  his  throat,  and  making  me  no 
further  reply,  waved  his  sword  in  the  air  with  a 
cry  on  his  men  for  yet  another  effort,  and  a  for- 
lorn hope  at  the  guns.  And  they  who  had  never 
known  defeat  before  answered  to  his  call  and 
came  up  again — a  line  of  men  for  whom  the  bit- 
terness of  death  was  passed.  I  ought  to  have 
gone  back  to  de  Rone,  but  the  lust  of  battle  was 
on  me,  and  for  me  there  was  nothing  in  the  world 
but  the  black  guns  behind  the  continuous  flashes, 
lightening  through  the  thick  smoke  which  the 
wind  was  blowing  in  our  faces.  My  brave  horse 
was  killed  by  a  round  shot,  and  as  I  scrambled  up 
and  took  my  place  by  de  Leyva's  side,  his  fea- 
tures relaxed  and  he  said  with  a  thin  smile : 

*  I  have  had  both  my  horses  killed,  Chevalier, 
or  would  offer  you  a  mount.' 

'  We  will  replace  them  from  Schomberg's 
reiters,'  and  the  bugles,  sounding  the  attack,  cut 
short  all  further  talk.  It  was  win  or  lose  now — 
all  was  staked  upon  this  hazard,  and  it  was  well 
for  us  that  Schomberg  was  broken,  for  to  protect 
the  men  as  far  as  possible  from  the  guns,  de 
Leyva  advanced  in  open  files.  There  was  to  be 
no  firing.  The  work  was  to  be  all  cold  steel,  and 
Bayonne  knife  and  Biscay  pike  were  to  make  a 
last  effort  against  the  long,  black,  snarling  guns, 
behind  which  d'Aussonville's  ordnance  men 
yelped  and  danced  with  glee  as  each  discharge 
brought  down  its  tale  of  the  mangled  and  dead. 
But  up  the  long  slope,  never  flinching,  never 
swerving,  one  man  stepping  where  another  fell, 
3 


34  THE   CHEVALIER  D'AURIAC 

the  veteran  regiments  marched,  with  their  gal- 
lant chief  at  their  head.  When  about  fifty  paces 
away,  the  drift  was  so  thick  that  we  could  see 
nothing  save  the  incessant  flashes  of  light,  which 
possessed  but  power  enough  to  show  themselves. 
At  this  moment  the  bugles  rang  out  shrilly,  the 
ranks  closed  up  like  magic,  there  was  one  tre- 
mendous roar  of  artillery,  and  the  half  of  us  that 
were  left  were  in  the  battery.  Here,  on  the  red 
and  slippery  corn-stalks,  the  devilry  went  on,  and 
men  fought  more  like  beasts  than  human  beings. 
As  the  heaving  mass  swayed  backwards  and  for- 
wards, the  strong  breeze  lifted  the  smoke  from 
the  now  speechless  guns  and  showed  that  they 
were  won,  but  it  also  showed  us  another  sight, 
and  that  was  de  Rone's  broken  centre  doubling 
back  upon  us  in  utter  rout,  and  behind  them  a 
silver  line  of  shining  helmets  as  the  King's 
House  charged,  led  by  Henry  himself. 

On  they  came,  a  dancing  line  of  light,  a  gleam 
of  shining  swords,  with  the  white  plume  of  the 
bravest  of  them  full  three  lengths  in  front. 

*  Vive  le  Roi !  *  The  breeze  flung  us  the  deep- 
mouthed  cheer  as  they  broke  through  the  mailed 
ranks  of  de  R6ne*s  own  cuirassiers,  and  drove 
horse  and  foot,  knight  and  knave,  in  a  huddled 
mob  before  them. 

It  may  have  been  fancy,  but  I  thought  I  saw 
in  the  press  a  dark  figure  that  suddenly  turned 
the  reins  of  a  huge,  black  charger  and  flew  at  the 
King.  For  an  instant  two  bright  sword  blades 
crossed   in   the   air,   and    then   the   black   horse 


THE  RED   CORNFIELD  35 

plunged  riderless  into  the  grey  spate  of  smoke 
that  the  wind  was  bearing  westwards,  and  a  groan 
as  of  despair  fell  on  my  ears. 

*  Vive  le  Roi  I '  Once  again  came  the  full- 
throated  cry,  and  the  bay  horse  was  galloping  to- 
wards us,  followed  by  the  line  of  swords,  no  lon- 
ger shining,  but  dulled  and  red  with  the  slaughter 
they  had  made. 

From  a  heap  of  dead  and  dying  that  lay  about 
two  yards  off  me,  a  figure,  so  hideous  with 
wounds  that  it  seemed  barely  human,  rose  to  a 
sitting  posture,  and  then  staggering  to  its  feet, 
swayed  backwards  and  forwards,  with  the  frag- 
ment of  a  sword  still  clutched  in  its  hand.  With 
a  supreme  effort  it  steadied  itself,  and  as  the  poor, 
mad  eyes,  alive  with  pain,  caught  sight  of  the 
enemy,  they  lit  again  with  the  fire  of  battle,  and 
de  Leyva's  voice  rang  out  strong  and  clear  as  of 
old: 

'  The  guns — the  guns — turn  them  on  the  King  !  * 

*  They  are  spiked,'  someone  gave  answer,  with 
a  grim,  hopeless  laugh. 

As  he  heard  this  reply,  de  Leyva  slipped  side- 
ways, and  would  have  fallen  had  I  not  sprang  for- 
ward and  supported  him  with  my  arm.  He  leaned 
his  smitten  frame  against  me  for  a  moment,  and 
something  that  was  like  a  sob  burst  from  him. 
But  he  recovered  himself  on  the  instant,  and  with 
the  strength  so  often  given  to  those  who  are  about 
to  die,  pushed  me  aside  with  an  oath,  and  shaking 
his  broken  blade  in  the  face  of  the  advancing  line, 
fell  forwards  in  a  huddled  mass,  a  dead  man. 


36  THE   CHEVALIER  D'AURIAC 

The  next  moment  the  enemy  were  on  us.  We 
met  them  with  a  row  of  pikes ;  but  what  could 
we  do,  for  we  were  few  in  number,  weary  with 
the  long  struggle,  and  weak  with  wounds  ?  The 
issue  was  never  in  doubt,  and  they  broke  us  at 
once.  I  have  a  vague  memory  of  fighting  for 
dear  life  amidst  a  thunder  of  hoofs,  and  the  hissing 
sweep  of  swords,  but  was  ridden  down  by  some 
one,  and  all  became  dark  around  me. 


When  my  mind  came  back,  it  was  with  the  con- 
sciousness of  rain  that  was  falling  softly,  and  the 
cool  drops  plashed  on  my  burning  head  with  a  sen- 
sation of  relief  that  I  cannot  describe.  I  suffered 
from  an  intolerable  thirst,  and  strove  to  rise  that 
I  might  find  means  to  quench  it ;  but  found  I 
was  powerless  to  move,  and  writhed  in  my  agony 
in  the  rut  amidst  the  corn-stalks  wherein  I  had 
fallen.  The  rain  was  but  a  passing  shower,  and 
when  it  ceased  a  light  but  cool  breeze  sprang  up. 
It  was  night,  and  a  fitful  moon  shone  through  the 
uneasy  clouds  that  hurried  to  and  fro  overhead 
in  the  uncertain  breeze,  which  shifted  its  quarter 
as  often  as  a  child  might  change  its  mind.  I 
seemed  to  be  alive  only  in  the  head,  and  began  to 
wonder  to  myself  how  long  I  was  to  lie  there  un- 
til death  came,  and  with  it  the  end  of  all  things. 
I  began  to  wish  it  would  come  quickly,  and  there 
was  a  secret  whispering  in  my  soul  to  pray — to 
pray  to  the  God  of  whom  I  had  never  thought 
since  childhood — to  entreat  that  Invisible  Being, 


THE  RED    CORNFIELD  37 

at  whose  existence  I  had  so  often  laughed,  to 
stoop  from  above  the  stars  and  end  my  pain,  and 
I  cursed  myself  for  a  white-livered  cur  that  for- 
got the  Godhead  in  my  strength,  and  in  my 
weakness  could  almost  have  shrieked  to  him  for 
help.  I  pulled  my  fainting  courage  up,  as  I 
thought  that  if  there  was  no  God,  it  was  useless 
wasting  my  breath  in  calling  on  him,  whilst  if,  on 
the  other  hand,  there  was  one,  no  prayer  of  mine 
could  go  higher  than  my  sword's  point,  were  I  to 
hold  the  blade  out  at  arm's  length  above  me — and 
now  that  the  end  was  coming,  I  was  not  going  to 
cringe  and  whimper.  So  my  sinful  pride  caught 
me  by  the  heel  as  I  lay  there  in  my  dolour. 

A  half-hour  or  so  may  have  passed  thus,  and 
the  moon  was  now  almost  entirely  obscured. 
Occasionally  I  could  hear  through  the  darkness 
around  me  the  moaning  of  some  poor  wounded 
wretch,  and  now  and  again  rose  the  shrill  discord- 
ant shriek  of  a  maimed  horse,  an  awful  cry  of  pain, 
the  effect  of  which  those  only  who  may  have 
heard  it  can  understand.  Soon  a  number  of 
twinkling  lights  began  to  hover  over  the  plain. 
Sometimes  they  moved  forward  rapidly,  some- 
times they  were  raised  and  lowered,  and  at  other 
times  stationary.  Gradually  two  of  these  Ian- 
thorns  came  closer  to  me,  stopping  about  ten  paces 
off,  and  when  I  saw  who  bore  them  I  knew  at  once 
they  were  death-hunters,  and  that  in  a  few  mo- 
ments the  knife  of  one  of  these  ghouls  might  end 
my  suffering.  There  were  two  of  these  fiends,  a 
man  and  a  woman,  and  as  they  halted  the  man 


38  THE   CHEVALIER  D'AURIAC 

stooped  :  there  was  a  choking  cry  for  mercy,  the 
blow  of  a  dagger,  and  a  groan.  The  robber 
busied  himself  in  searching  the  dead  man's  per- 
son, and,  in  the  silence  that  followed,  the  woman 
with  him  threw  up  her  head  and  laughed  a  horrid 
shrill  laugh.  It  pealed  out  with  so  eerie  a  sound 
that  the  death-hunter  sprang  to  his  feet ;  but  find- 
ing who  it  was,  burst  into  the  foulest  language. 

'  Sangdieu  !  Be  still,  fool,'  he  snarled,  'or  you'll 
laugh  another  way  if  I  tickle  you  with  my  knife.' 

*  Oh,  ho  !  The  brave  Mauginot,'  answered  the 
she-devil,  *  you  will  tickle  me  with  your  butcher 
knife — will  you  ?  I,  too,  can  make  you  skip,'  and 
she  shook  a  bright  dagger  in  her  long  lean  arm, 
but  suddenly  changing  her  tone,  '  Pouf ! '  she  said, 
*  there  is  no  use  in  squabbling,  partner.  This  is 
the  sixth  we  have  helped  to  hell  to-night,  and  not 
a  broad  piece  amongst  them.  Holy  Virgin  !  This 
is  a  field  of  paupers — let  us  begone ! '  and  to  my 
joy  she  made  as  if  to  go. 

*  Sta}^  Babette!  what  shines' there?'  and  Mau- 
ginot ran  forward  a  couple  of  paces,  and  bending 
low  wrenched  something  from  a  body,  and  then 
stood  up,  holding  it  to  the  light. 

I  saw  his  face  clearly,  and  saw  also  his  prize.  It 
was  poor  de  Leyva's  collar  of  the  Golden  Fleece, 
and  the  blood-stained  hand  of  the  croquemort  held 
it  up  to  the  lantern,  and  clinked  the  jewelled  links, 
whilst  he  feasted  his  eyes  on  the  gold  and  gems. 
Over  his  shoulders  peered  the  pitiless  features 
of  his  partner,  and  in  her  eyes  blazed  all  the  bad 
light  of  avarice  and  murder.     I  almost  held  my 


THE  RED   CORNFIELD  39 

breath  as  I  watched  the  eyes  of  the  woman  leave 
the  jewel  and  turn  on  the  man  with  death  in  their 
look.  As  for  him,  he  was  unconscious  of  the  knife 
quivering  in  the  nervous  fingers  behind  him,  and 
he  chuckled  over  his  find. 

'  That  is  the  collar  of  the  Toison  cTOr,  Babette. 
Sucre  chien!  But  I  will  wed  you,  and  we  will  buy 
an  estate  and  settle  down,  and  you  will  be  Madame 
de  Mauginot — hey  !  That  carrion  there  must  have 
been  a  great  prince — a  field  of  paupers — bah ! 
Give  me  more  paupers  like  this.  I  am  sorry  he 
is  dead,  Babette,  I  would  like  to  have — Ah,  mon 
Dieii ! — you  devil!  you  devil!'  for  as  he  babbled 
on,  his  words  were  cut  short  by  Babette's  knife, 
which  was  buried  to  the  hilt  between  his  shoulder- 
blades,  and  he  fell  on  his  knees  and  then  lurched 
on  his  face  stone  dead.  The  murderess  made  a 
snatch  at  the  jewel,  which  I  saw  her  conceal,  and 
then  with  a  mocking  *  Adieu,  M.  ^^  Mauginot!  * 
to  her  victim,  stepped  over  my  body  and  moved 
out  of  sight,  swinging  her  lantern,  and  laughing 
low  to  herself. 

As  I  watched  this  hideous  scene,  I  for  the  mo- 
ment forgot  the  pain  of  my  hurts;  but  they  soon 
began  to  assert  themselves  in  such  a  manner  that 
I  longed  for  the  relief  that  unconsciousness  would 
afford,  nor  indeed  would  I  have  been  sorry  if  the 
night-hag,  Babette,  had  come  back  and  put  an 
end  to  me.  My  senses  half  failed  me  again,  and  I 
felt  myself  tottering  on  the  brink  of  delirium.  I 
caught  myself  shouting  and  speaking  out  aloud 
in  a  mad  manner;  but  I  had  no  power  of  stopping 


40  THE   CHEVALIER  D'AURIAC 

myself.  So  the  long  hours  of  the  night  passed, 
and  at  last  it  was  dawn  once  more,  and  morning 
came. 

Lying  with  my  ear  against  the  ground,  I  heard 
the  dull  beat  of  horses*  hoofs,  growing  louder  and 
more  distinct  as  they  approached,  and  in  a  little 
time  the  party,  whoever  they  were,  rode  into  the 
cornfield.  For  a  second  my  eyes  were  dazzled  by 
the  reflection  of  the  sun  on  the  silver-plate  of  their 
armour;  but  I  recovered  myself  with  an  effort, 
and  watched  eagerly,  intending  to  cry  out  for  help 
as  they  passed  me,  for  my  voice  was  too  weak  to 
reaph  where  they  were.  There  were  two  ladies 
amongst  them,  and  all  appeared  to  be  looking 
with  much  concern  and  anxiety  for  some  one. 
As  they  came  closer  I  saw  it  was  the  King  him- 
self, with  Madame  Gabrielle  and  another  lady, 
doubtless  of  the  court,  and  a  numerous  retinue. 
Henry  was  mounted  on  his  famous  bay  charger ; 
and,  as  he  lifted  his  hat  and  looked  silently  around 
him,  I  had  good  opportunity  of  observing  the  man 
who  was  without  doubt  the  most  heroic  figure  of 
the  age,  and  who  united  in  himself  the  most  op- 
posite extremes  of  character.  I  saw  before  me  a 
spare  figure,  the  head  covered  with  short  black 
hair,  a  long  hooked  nose  that  fell  over  the  upper 
lip,  and  a  sharp  protruding  chin,  half  hidden  in  a 
beard  tinged  with  grey.  His  long  curled  mous- 
taches were  white  as  snow,  and  the  story  went 
that  they  had  become  so  on  the  night  when  the 
Edicts  of  Pacification  were  revoked  by  the  last  of 
the  Valois.     Under  his  bushy  eyebrows  his  keen 


THE  RED    CORNFIELD  4 1 

restless  eyes  glittered  like  two  beads,  but  for  the 
moment  they  seemed  dilated  with  a  soft  light,  and 
there  was  an  infinite  sadness  in  them  as  he  looked 
round  the  bloody  field. 

^  I  am  afraid  we  search  in  vain,  madame,'  and  a 
tall  cavalier  mounted  on  a  big  bay  addressed  Ma- 
dame de  Beaufort.  She  nodded  her  head  to  him 
sadly,  and  turned  to  the  King. 

'  It  is  useless,  sire,  and  I  can  bear  this  no  longer 
— it  is  too  horrible — let  us  go.' 

^  Mignonne,  you  are  right — this  is  no  place  for 
you.  Roquelaure  will  see  you  and  your  little 
friend  there  back,  and  I  will  come  to  you  soon — 
but  now  I  have  a  letter  to  write — just  a  few  lines 
to  Beam.'  The  King  spoke  with  a  strong  south- 
ern accent,  and  as  he  spoke  leaned  forward  and 
caressed  Madame  Gabrielle's  hand.  She,  how- 
ever, declined  to  go.  '  I  will  wait,  sire,  but  it  shall 
be  with  my  eyes  shut,'  and  the  King's  mistress, 
whose  cheeks  were  very  pale,  put  her  hand  to 
her  eyes  as  if  to  shut  out  the  sight  around  her. 
The  lady  with  Madame  de  Beaufort  coming  nearer 
at  this  time,  I  recognised  my  unknown  Madame 
of  the  outposts,  who  had  evidently  found  her  way 
back  to  her  friends.  But  it  was  with  a  bitter  dis- 
appointment that  I  saw  her  in  the  company  of 
the  duchess,  and  evidently  in  attendance  on  her. 
Madame  was  nothing  to  me  I  thought,  but  I  could 
not  associate  her  with  the  fallen  woman  who  was 
the  mistress  of  the  King.  I  was  learning  the  les- 
son that  love  comes  on  a  man  like  a  thief  in  the 
night,  and,  unconsciously  to  myself,  Madame  had 


42  THE   CHEVALIER  D'AURIAC 

climbed  on  a  pinnacle  in  my  heart,  and  the  thought 
that  I  had  deceived  myself  in  my  estimate  of  her 
moved  me  to  sudden  anger,  and  stilled  the  cry 
for  help  that  was  rising  to  my  lips — I  would  have 
no  help  from  her  and  her  friends. 

In  the  meantime  the  King  was  busily  engaged 
in  writing  his  despatch  on  a  small  tablet,  which 
he  rested  on  the  pommel  of  his  saddle,  and  as  he 
wrote  he  repeated  the  words  aloud,  and  the  pur- 
port of  the  note,  which  was  to  de  la  Force  at 
Pau,  was  to  send  him  a  dozen  young  peach-trees, 
carefully  packed  in  mould,  each  in  a  tin  case  one 
foot  long,  these  to  be  planted  in  his  gardens  of  St. 
Germain. 

As  he  was  thus  engaged,  a  little  shrivelled  old 
man  pushed  his. horse  beside  Madame  de  Beau- 
fort, and  said  in  mincing  tones  as  hard  as  steel. 
*  Come,  madame,  your  brother  has  met  a  soldier's 
death,  and  no  Frenchman  can  hope  for  a  better 
— or  he  is  safe  and  well  somewhere.  Dry  your 
tears,  and  rejoice  at  the  glorious  victory  we  have 
won.'  The  duchess  made  some  answer  in  a  broken 
voice,  and  the  King,  hearing  her,  stopped  writing 
and  put  his  tablet  away. 

^  M'amye!  D'Ayen  speaks  rightly,  though  he 
speaks  from  the  head.  God  keep  us  from  more 
scenes  like  this.  As  for  your  brother,  de  Coeuvres, 
I  will  not  rest  till  there  is  news  of  him  ;  but  now 
we  can  do  no  more.  Come,  then — open  your 
pretty  eyes  and  we  will  go — there  is  much  on 
hand.' 

I  was  a  hot-headed  fool  and  furious  in  those 


THE  RED    CORNFIELD  43 

days,  and  I  set  my  teeth  together  grimly  as  they 
made  ready  to  start,  swearing  I  would  rather  die 
than  make  the  slightest  signal  for  aid.  They  rode 
past  quite  close  to  me — Gabrielle  weeping  at  the 
King's  bridle  hand,  and  his  Majesty  sucking  at  a 
nectarine  he  had  pulled  from  his  holster.  Madame 
was  im.mediately  behind,  and  as  she  came  up  to 
me,  our  eyes  met  with  an  instant  recognition.  In 
a  moment  her  cheek  had  crimsoned  and  paled, 
and  she  reined  in  with  a  cry  : 

'  Stop— halt !  ' 

'It  is  Louis — Louis — O  God,  no!'  exclaimed 
Madame  de  Beaufort,  swinging  round,  the  glad 
note  in  her  voice  breaking  as  she  saw  I  was  not 
her  brother,  de  Coeuvres;  but  Madame  had  al- 
ready dism.ounted  and  was  holding  my  head 
up,  and  gently  passing  a  handkerchief  over  my 
face. 

They  had  all  surrounded  me  now,  and  I  heard 
quick  orders  given. 

'  He  is  past  mending/  said  d'Ayen,  bending 
over  me  from  his  saddle,  '  a  gentleman,  too,  it 
seems.  Let  him  lie  there — he  will  die  very  soon, 
poor  devil ! ' 

'  Mon  Dieu  I  No  ! '  broke  in  the  duchess,  and 
Madame  looked  at  the  speaker  with  a  cold  con- 
tempt. 

'  He  is  the  only  man  living  here,*  and  the  strong 
accent  of  the  Bearnais  came  as  from  a  distance  ; 
*  Ventre-saint'Gris  !  But  they  fought  like  paladins, 
and.  Frenchman  or  foreigner,  he  shall  be  saved  if 
it  can  be  done.' 


44  THE   CHEVALIER  D'AURIAC 

'  Sire/  said  a  soft  voice,  '  you  are  the  true  King 
of  the  brave/ 

Then  two  men-at-arms  raised  me  with  a  rough 
gentleness  on  their  crossed  spears,  and  inflicted 
on  me  in  their  kindness  the  most  infinite  torture. 
The  King  himself  pressed  a  flask  of  wine  to  my 
lips,  and,  as  I  drank  greedily,  two  cool  hands  held 
up  my  head.  Then  we  moved  on  slowly,  Madame 
refusing  to  ride,  but  walking  by  my  side,  and  sup- 
porting my  burning  head. 


CHAPTER  IV 

THE   CHATEAU   DE   LA  BIDACHE 

Months  had  passed  since  I  shook  hands  with 
death  in  the  cornfield  by  the  banks  of  the  Oise, 
and  the  grass  was  tall  and  green  on  the  mounds 
around  La  Fere  which  marked  the  graves  of  those 
who  had  fought  and  died  there,  in  reality  for  the 
hand  of  Spain,  in  spirit  for  the  League  that  was 
dead.  It  was  autumn  now,  and  as  I,  well  and 
strong  again,  walked  down  the  long  avenue  of 
beeches  that  led  to  the  park  gates  of  Bidache,  I 
let  my  memory  run  back  to  the  days  in  the  hos- 
pital of  Ste.  Genevieve,  whither  I  was  borne  from 
the  field  ;  to  the  soft-voiced,  gentle-handed  sisters 
of  mercy ;  to  the  physician  Marescot,  the  King's 
own  leech,  with  his  acid  face  and  kind  heart,  who 
doctored  me  ;  and  above  all  to  the  tall,  slight, 
black-robed  figure  that  came  to  see  me  daily,  and 
for  whose  coming  I  used  to  long,  in  the  dreary 
hours  of  my  pain,  with  an  infinite  desire.  I  ar- 
gued with  myself  on  the  absurdity  of  the  thing — 
here  was  I,  hardened  by  ten  years  of  campaigning 
which  ought  to  have  taught  me  the  world,  con- 
quered out  of  hand  by  the  glance  of  a  pair  of  bright 
eyes,  and  the  tones  of  a  sweet  voice.  As  the  days 
wore  on,  I  cursed  myself  for  the  unworthy  sus- 

45 


46  THE   CHEVALIER  D'AURIAC 

picions  that  had  come  to  me  and  tied  my  tongue 
when  I  lay  wounded,  and  was  rescued  by  chance, 
and  her  charity.  Who  or  what  she  was  I  cared 
not,  and  recklessly  abandoned  myself  to  the  feel- 
ings that  were  aroused  in  my  heart. 

1  shall  not  forget  what  happened  one  afternoon. 
A  long  gallery  in  the  convent  of  Ste.  Genevieve 
had  been  turned  into  a  ward,  and  here  the 
wounded  lay  on  pallets  with  a  walking  space  be- 
tween. Owing  to  Madame's  kindness  I  was  com- 
fortably quartered  at  the  end  of  the  gallery,  and  a 
screen  had  been  set  between  me  and  the  other 
patients.  I  was  gaining  strength  daily,  and,  at 
the  moment  I  speak  of,  was  in  a  state  between 
sleeping  and  waking,  when  I  heard  a  laugh  and 
the  sound  of  footsteps,  and  saw  through  the  partly 
open  wing  of  the  screen  that  my  lady  had  come 
to  make  her  daily  rounds,  not  attended  as  usual 
only  by  her  women,  but  by  a  gaily-dressed  cavalier 
as  well,  and  it  was  his  laugh  that  I  had  heard.  In 
this  person,  dressed  in  the  extreme  of  fashion,  I 
made  out  M.  d'Ayen,  the  same  who  had  so  kindly 
suggested  that  I  should  be  left  to  die  in  the  field. 
He  pattered  along,  holding  a  kerchief  edged  with 
gold  lace  to  his  nose,  and  ever  and  again  waving 
it  in  the  air,  whilst  he  spoke  in  a  loud  tone,  re- 
gardless of  the  looks  cast  at  him  by  the  sisters  in 
attendance  on  the  wounded.  They  came  slowly 
towards  me,  for  Madame  stayed  constantly  to 
speak  to  some  maimed  wretch,  and  I  saw  her  slip 
money  into  the  hands  of  some,  and  there  were 
kind  words  for  all.     I  felt  a  strange  pleasure  in 


THE   CHATEAU  DE  LA   BID  ACHE  47 

watching  her,  whilst  at  the  same  time  I  thought 
E  of  my  past,  and  how  unfit  I  was  even  to  nurse 
such  a  dream  as  my  love  for  her.  When  within  a 
yard  or  so  of  the  screen,  Madame  bent  over  a  suf- 
ferer, and  d*Ayen  exclaimed  in  his  biting  voice — 
'  Morbleu  !  Madame !  But  you  are  the  Princess 
of  Charity.  Let  us  hasten  to  your  interesting 
patient,  however.  His  Majesty  is  most  anxious 
to  hear  of  him.' 

'  His  Majesty  has  never  done  me  the  honour  to 
inquire,*  she  answered  coldly. 

*  You  could  hardly  expect  that,  madame.  But 
it  came  about  in  this  way.  We  were  at  flux,  and 
as  usual  I  held  a  bad  cassade ' 

But  Madame,  to  whom  his  presence  was  unwel- 
come, waited  to  hear  no  more,  and  passing  the 
screen,  came  to  my  side,  and  would  have  spoken ; 
d*Ayen,  however,  cut  in  with  a  rudeness  for  which 
I  could  have  run  him  through. 

*  My  compliments,  M.  d*Auriac.  You  are  a 
lucky  man.  The  King  takes  so  great  an  interest 
in  you  that  he  has  charged  me  with  a  message  to 
you.  His  Majesty  bids  me  say,*  and  his  bead-like 
eyes  twinkled  down  on  me  from  his  painted 
cheeks,  and  then  turned  slily  towards  Madame. 

I  waited  for  him  to  continue,  and  he  went  on, 
talking  as  if  his  words  were  meant  for  Madame 
as  well. 

*  His  Majesty  trusts  you  will  soon  be  recovered, 
and  relieve  Madame  de  la  Bidache  from  the  strain 
of  watching  you,  and  begs  me  to  add  that  he  is  of 
a  temper  that  can  brook  no  rival  in  war — or  love. 


48  THE   CHEVALIER  D'AURIAC 

Let  me  say,  on  my  own  account,  that  it  would  be 
well  if  M.  le  Chevalier  would  take  a  change  of 
air/ 

I  looked  from  one  to  another  in  blank  amaze — 
at  the  little  ape  with  his  cruel  eyes,  and  at  Ma- 
dame, who  was  still  as  a  stone.  Then  she  coloured 
to  her  eyelids,  her  hands  fell  clenched  to  her  side, 
and  she  turned  on  d*Ayen. 

'  Such  a  message,  monsieur,  should  not  have 
been  delivered  before  me.  I  will  take  care  that 
M.  d*Auriac  has  a  change  of  air;  and,  monsieur, 
your  presence  oppresses  me.  I  beg  you  will  not 
trouble  to  escort  me  farther.* 

Then  she  turned  from  us  and  passed  down  the 
ward,  but  d^Ayen  remained. 

*  I  will  kill  you  for  this,*  I  gasped. 

He  looked  at  me  with  a  shrug  of  his  lean  shoul- 
ders. 

'  Perhaps — I  am  old.  But  you  would  do  well 
to  take  my  advice,  monsieur,'  and  with  a  bow  he 
too  turned  and  went. 

I  was  left  lost  in  wonder,  utterly  in  the  dark  as 
to  what  this  all  meant,  but  determined  to  find  out 
and  bring  d'Ayen  to  book  at  the  first  chance.  I 
made  up  my  mind  to  ask  the  next  day.  The  next 
day  came ;  but  Madame  did  not,  and  then  another 
and  yet  another  day  of  dreariness  passed.  At 
last  someone,  I  forget  who,  told  me  she  had  gone 
with  the  court  to  Nantes,  and  that  I  would  see 
her  no  more.  Later  on,  when  Marescot  came  to 
me,  I  begged  the  favour  of  his  getting  me  the 
knot   of   ribbon    he    would   find   in   the  lefthand 


THE   CHATEAU  DE  LA   BID  ACHE  49 

breast  pocket  of  the  doublet  I  wore  on  the  day  I 
was  brought  into  the  hospital. 

'  You  are  getting  well,'  he  said,  and  turned 
away,  but  came  back  in  a  little  with  a  wrinkled 
smile  on  his  lips,  '  I  cannot  find  the  cordial  you 
want,  Chevalier/ 

I  had  half  raised  my  head  in  expectancy  as  he 
returned,  but  sank  back  again  at  his  words,  and 
Marescot  went  on  in  his  low  voice  that  sounded 
like  the  humming  of  a  bee.  *  M.  le  Chevalier, 
that  bow  of  ribbon  has  gone  away,  so  high  up 
that  a  taller  man  than  you  could  not  reach  it. 
Forget  it.  But  I  have  news  for  you,  which  the 
clumsy  fool  who  told  you  of  Madame's  departure 
should  have  given  you :  you  are  to  go  to  Bidache 
shortly,  and  stay  there  until  you  are  well  again. 
It  will  not  be  for  long.  After  that,  try  the  tonic 
of  the  Italian  war.  France  will  be  all  plough- 
shares now  that  the  King  is  king.' 

I  caught  him  by  the  sleeve  of  his  soutane. 
*  Tell  me,'  I  said  weakly,  '  who  is  Madame,  where 
is  Bidache?' 

'Madame,  as  we  all  call  her,  is  Claude  de 
Rochemars,  widow  of  Antoine  de  la  Tremouille, 
and  heiress  of  Bidache,  Pelouse,  and  a  quarter  of 
the  Cevennes.  Bidache,  where  you  go,  is  her 
chateau  in  Normandy.  Madame,'  he  went  on 
with  a  ghost  of  a  smile  on  his  thin  lips,  'is  kind- 
ness itself.  Now  no  more  talk  for  to-day.'  Then 
he  went,  and  I  lay  back,  as  sore  in  mind  as  in 
body. 

In  a  day  or  so  Madame's  steward  of  Bidache 


50  THE   CHEVALIER  D'AURIAC 

arrived,  bearing  a  letter  from  her,  in  which,  as  a 
poor  return  for  the  service  I  had  done  her — so  she 
put  it — she  placed  her  Norman  chateau  at  my 
disposal  until  I  was  well  again.  I  had  a  mind  to 
refuse  ;  but  in  my  state  could  summon  up  no 
such  resolution,  and,  muttering  my  thanks  to  the 
steward,  said  they  could  do  what  they  listed  with 
me.  They  moved  me  here  by  easy  stages,  carry- 
ing me  in  a  litter  as  I  was  too  weak  to  ride,  and 
when  I  came  to  Bidache,  and  was  borne  to  my 
apartments,  imagine  my  joy  and  surprise  at  see- 
ing there  my  knave  Jacques,  whom  I  thought  to 
be  either  dead  or  home  again  at  Auriac  ;  and  not 
only  Jacques,  but  hanging  on  the  wall  my  own 
sword,  and  the  sight  of  it  was  like  meeting  a  tried 
friend.  Later  on,  Jacques  informed  me  that  after 
the  rout  he  had  made  the  best  of  his  way  back  to 
the  old  rock,  and  stayed  there,  hoping  for  news 
of  me.  At  last  it  came,  with  orders  for  him  to 
hurry  to  Bidache,  and  he  did  so,  bearing  with 
him  such  things  as  he  thought  I  needed,  as  well 
as  a  hundred  pistoles  of  rents,  the  same  being  half 
the  sum  due  to  me  for  my  rights  over  the  fish  in 
the  bay  of  Auriac.  As  for  the  sword,  it  had  been 
given  to  him  on  his  arrival  by  Madame's  orders 
to  keep  for  me.  I  had  come  to  a  low  ebb  by  this, 
and  the  money  was  trebly  welcome,  as  it  would 
furnish  me  with  a  couple  of  horses,  and  leave  a 
round  sum  besides  when  I  left  Bidache,  which  I 
meant  to  do  as  soon  as  ever  I  was  fit  to  travel. 
And  now  the  time  had  come  for  me  to  depart,  and 
I  was  to  start  that  evening.     For  forty  crowns 


THE   CHATEAU  DE  LA   BID  ACHE  5 1 

Jacques  had  picked  up  a  couple  of  stout  cobs  at 
Evreux,  and  we  meant  to  leave  an  hour  or  so  be- 
fore sundown  and  make  for  Paris,  where,  if  the 
King  would  accept  an  old  leaguer's  sword,  we 
would  stay  ;  if  not,  the  world  was  wide.  I  was  as 
far  as  ever  from  understanding  the  strange  mes- 
sage that  M.  d'Ayen  had  delivered  to  me,  and  felt 
myself  safe  in  going  to  Paris,  as  a  general  amnesty 
covered  all  our  sins  of  rebellion — so  they  were 
called  now. 

So  absorbed  was  I  in  these  thoughts,  that  1  did 
not  mark  the  rapid  approach  of  a  horseman,  nor 
indeed  was  I  aware  of  his  presence  until,  when 
within  a  few  yards  of  me,  he  reigned  in  his  plung- 
ing beast,  whose  bit  and  neck  were  white  with 
foam,  and  lifting  his  hat  respectfully,  inquired  if  I 
was  the  Chevalier  d'Auriac  and  on  my  reply  ex- 
claimed, '  Madame  will  be  overjoyed.  We  heard 
that  you  had  already  left  Bidache,  and  my  lady 
arrives  within  the  hour  from  Evreux.  Pardon, 
monsieur — I  go  to  give  the  news  to  the  house- 
hold,' and,  saluting  again,  the  lackey  dashed  on- 
wards towards  the  chateau. 

So  1  would  meet  her  within  the  hour.  Half 
unconsciously  I  glanced  down  to  see  if  my  dou- 
blet sat  aright  and  my  points  were  tied.  Then  I 
thought  I  would  go  back  to  the  house  and  meet 
her  there,  and,  as  I  did  this,  I  looked  at  the  fall 
of  the  plumes  in  my  hat,  and,  finally,  laughing 
at  myself  for  a  coxcomb,  took  my  heart  in  both 
hands,  and  marched  onwards  towards  the  gates. 
The  porter  had  already  been  warned,  and  on  my 


52  THE   CHEVALIER  D'AURIAC  . 

coming  I  found  him  there  with  a  crowd  of  yokels, 
all  in  a  state  of  high  excitement. 

*  It  is  three  years  since  Madame  was  here,  mon- 
sieur/ the  honest  fellow  exclaimed  to  me  as  I 
came  up,  *  three  years,  and  now  she  comes  with- 
out a  word  of  warning — hola  !  There  they  are, 
and  there  is  Madame  on  the  jennet  she  purchased 
from  M.  le  due  de  Sully — he  was  but  the  Sieur 
de  Rosny  then — hola  !  hola  I ' 

The  crowd  joined  with  him  in  his  cheers,  al- 
though as  yet  the  party  was  far  off — not  so  far, 
however,  that  I  could  not  easily  make  out  the 
graceful  figure  on  the  jennet,  and  in  the  two 
riders  who  accompanied  Madame,  apart  from  the 
half-dozen  servants  behind,  I  recognised  to  my 
surprise  d' Ayen,  and  guessed  that  the  grey-beard 
in  the  tall-crowned,  broad-brimmed  hat,  with  the 
sad-coloured  cloak  over  his  shoulders,  was  no 
other  than  the  old  Huguenot,  whose  zeal  had 
outrun  his  discretion  on  the  night  when  I  saved 
Madame  from  a  great  peril. 

This  guess  of  mine  I  hazarded  aloud  to  the 
gate-keeper,  who  replied : 

'  Yes,  M.  le  Chevalier,  that  is  Maitre  Palin, 
Madame's  chaplain,  and  he  was  also  chaplain  to 
M.  le  Compte  before  he  died.' 

'  When  was  it  that  M.  le  Compte  died  ?  * 

'  Let  me  see,  monsieur — ah,  yes — four  years 
ago  in  Paris,  at  the  time  of  the  Plague.  He  was 
a  great  lord,  as  you  may  know,  and  brother  of 
the  duke,  who  they  say  has  quarrelled  with  the 
King  because  of  his  conversion,  and  of  Madame 


THE   CHATEAU  DE  LA   BID  ACHE  53 

Charlotte,  the  Princess  of  Cond6,  who  lives  in  the 
Rue  Grenelle,  and  whom  the  King  kept  for  long 
a  close  prisoner  in  the  tower  of  St.  Jean  d^Angely 
— no  one  knows  why ;  but  it  is  buzzed  that  Mon- 
seigneur,  the  Prince  of  Conde,  the  King's  cousin, 
died  of  a  flask  of  wine,  and  that  the  Princess — 
but  hola !  kola !  welcome  to  your  own  house, 
madame,'  and  he  dropped  on  his  knees  as  the 
cavalcade  rode  up,  and  presented  the  keys  of  the 
chateau  gates  slung  on  a  silver  chain  to  their 
mistress.  She  bent  from  the  saddle  and  touched 
them  with  her  hand,  and  the  peasantry  sur- 
rounded her  with  hearty  greeting,  hedging  her 
in  with  cheerful  red  faces  and  broad  smiles,  so 
that  she  could  not  move.  Meanwhile,  1  stood 
apart,  tugging  at  my  moustache,  wondering  by 
what  right  d'Ayen  rode  at  her  bridle  hand,  and 
feeling  how  true  Marescot's  words  were,  that  the 
bow  of  ribbon  was  hung  too  high  for  me.  Not 
that  it  was  a  question  of  birth — de  Breuil  of  Au- 
riac  was  a  name  that  was  old  when  Tremouille 
was  unknown ;  but — there  were  other  things 
which  made  all  the  difference,  and  men  and  women 
of  the  world  will  understand  what  I  mean  when  I 
say  this. 

As  Madame  lifted  her  head  our  eyes  met,  and, 
raising  my  hat,  I  advanced  towards  her,  the  peo- 
ple giving  way  respectfully.  My  ears  were  buzz- 
ing, and  I  was  as  shy  and  nervous  as  a  schoolboy 
as  I  bowed  over  her  gloved  hand,  and  touched  it 
with  my  lips. 

'  Let  me  welcome  vou  back  to  health,  Cheva* 


54  THE   CHEVALIER  D'AURIAC 

lier/  she  said,  '  and  say  how  glad  I  am  to  be  able, 
even  for  a  short  while,  to  do  the  honours  of  my 
poor  house  in  person  to  you.  News  came  to  us 
that  you  had  already  left  Bidache — without  even 
a  word  to  me  ;*  her  voice  dropped  a  little  as  she 
said  this,  but  the  tone  was  cool  and  friendly, 
nothing  more. 

*  I  go  to-night,  madame/ 

*  So  soon ;  but  I  understand  why,  and  will  not 
press  you  to  stay — here  is  one  who,  like  myself, 
has  longed  for  an  opportunity  to  thank  you  in 
person.  Mon p^re'  and  she  turned  to  the  Hugue- 
not priest,  *  this  is  our  friend  to  whom  we  owe  so 
much.* 

'  In  the  service  of  the  Lord  one  would  willingly 
lay  down  life,*  said  Palin,  as  he  shook  me  warmly 
by  the  hand,  '  nevertheless,  a  few  hours  more  of 
the  world  for  an  old  man  is  a  grace  not  to  be  de- 
spised, and  1  thank  the  instrument  that  has  be- 
stowed this  benefit  upon  me.* 

D'Ayen,  between  whom  and  myself  there  had 
passed  no  greeting,  now  spoke  in  a  voice  that 
fairly  trembled  with  anger. 

*  I  was  not  aware  that  I  should  have  the  plea- 
sure of  meeting  you  here,  M.  le  Chevalier.  It 
will  surprise  the  King,'  he  added,  in  a  lower  tone 
to  Madame. 

I  made  no  answer;  but  the  memory  of  his 
warning  and  my  determination  to  settle  with 
him  came  up  in  full  force.  Madame,  however, 
spoke. 

*  M.  d*Ayen,  when,  by  the  order  of  the  King, 


THE   CHATEAU  DE  LA   BID  ACHE  55 

you  were  directed  to  escort  me  to  Bidache,  there 
was  nothing  said  about  your  right  to  dictate  to 
me  who  shall  be  my  guests.  Remember,  mon- 
sieur, that  your  company  is  forced  upon  me,  and 
let  me  add  that  you  are  a  trifle  too  paternal/ 

D'Ayen  paled  under  his  rouge,  and,  muttering 
something,  reined  back  a  pace,  whilst  Palin,  look- 
ing him  full  in  the  eyes,  said : 

*  Will  you  swallow  that,  too,  M.  d'Ayen  ?  At 
your  age  one  would  have  thought  digestion 
hard/ 

And  there  was  no  answer. 

Madame  had  in  the  meantime  signalled  a  lackey 
to  dismount  and  offer  me  his  beast. 

^  I  cannot  allow  you  to  walk,  and  we  will  reach 
the  house  quicker  in  this  way,  besides,  I  want  to 
hear  all  your  news.  My  friends,'  and  she  turned 
to  the  people,  '  come  to  Bidache  :  it  is  long  since 
we  have  met,  and  I  would  have  you  to  make  merry 
as  of  old — come.  Chevalier.' 

In  the  cheers  which  followed,  she  touched  her 
horse  lightly  on  the  shoulder  with  her  whip,  and 
galloped  on,  Palin  and  I  on  either  hand,  and  the 
suite  behind.  In  a  little  while  she  slackened  pace, 
saying  with  a  laugh,  '  We  are  going  too  fast  to 
talk,  Chevalier,  and  I  am  a  woman,  you  know, 
and  must  hear  my  own  voice,  if  nothing  else — so 
you  are  quite  well  and  strong  again  ? ' 

'  I  am,  madame,  thanks  to  your  kindness,  which 
Alban  de  Breuil  can  never  forget.' 

Her  colour  deepened  slightly.  *  It  is  the  other 
way,  Chevalier,  the  debt  is  on  my  side.* 


56  THE   CHEVALIER  D'AURIAC 

'  I  have  done  nothing — and  the  repayment  was 
too  much.' 

'  I  am  sorry  you  think  so/  looking  straight  be- 
tween her  horse's  ears. 

'  I  did  not  mean  that — I  have  already  said  I  can 
never  requite  your  kindness,  and  if  Madame  ever 
needs  a  stout  arm  and  a  good  sword,  it  is  my 
hope  she  will  call  on  that  of  Auriac* 

*  Perhaps  I  may — some  day,*  she  answered,  '  for 
the  blood  of  my  fathers  runs  strong  in  me,  but  I 
think  Maitre  Palin  here  will  tell  you  that  I  am 
wrong,  and  that  the  sword  is  accursed.* 

'  Unless  it  be  drawn  in  the  service  of  God, 
madame,'  put  in  the  Huguenot  gravely. 

*  Mon  pere  Palin  has  been  a  man-at-arms  in  his 
day,*  said  Madame,  '  and  has  fought  at  Jarnac  and 
Moncontour.  He  is  therefore  of  the  church  mili- 
tant, as  you  see.' 

'  I  am  proud  to  meet  so  brave  a  soldier  as  I 
doubt  not  you  were,  Maitre  Palin.  We  took  dif- 
ferent sides  ;  but  all  that  is  passed  now,  and  Hu- 
guenot and  Leaguer  are  merged  in  the  common 
name  of  Frenchman.' 

'  Long  live  the  King  ! '  said  Madame  gaily  ;  but 
Palin  answered  sadly  : 

'  Would  it  were  so.  But  to  my  eyes  there  are 
still  dark  clouds  ahead.  We  have  no  longer 
Henry  of  Navarre,  but  Henry  of  France ;  no 
longer  a  prince  of  the  true  faith,  but  a  pervert.' 

*  His  Majesty  will  be  delighted  to  hear  that,' 
put  in  d'Ayen  ;  but  Madame  took  no  more  notice 
of  him  than  of  a  fly. 


THE   CHATEAU  DE  LA   BID  ACHE  57 

*■  Hush !  mon  pere^  and  she  raised  a  warning 
hand,  '  I  will  have  no  word  against  the  King.  M. 
le  Chevalier  is  right,  we  are  all  one  again,  as 
France  should  ever  be.' 

'  Amen  !  *  answered  Palin  ;  '  b?it  too  much  blood 
has  been  shed  for  this  compromise  to  be  accepted. 
The  way  is  dark — but  I  will  say  no  more,'  and 
the  old  croaker  dropped  a  half  length  behind. 

A  turn  in  the  avenue  at  this  moment  brought 
us  in  full  view  of  the  grey  walls  of  Bidache,  and 
on  the  wide  stone  staircase  that  led  to  the  great 
hall  we  saw  the  servants  of  the  household  assem- 
bled. Madame  waved  her  hand  in  greeting,  and 
the  cheer  which  broke  from  them  was  drowned 
in  the  boom  of  the  bombard  from  the  keep.  As 
the  blue  wreaths  of  smoke  curled  upwards  a  little 
ball  ran  to  the  top  of  the  flagstaff  on  the  keep, 
and  the  next  moment  the  banner  of  Tremouille, 
with  the  arms  of  Rochemars  of  Bidache  quartered 
thereon,  spread  out  its  folds  to  the  morning,  and 
Madame  was  come  home  once  more. 

We  dined  an  hour  or  so  later  than  usual,  Ma- 
dame, d'Ayen,  Palin,  and  myself  at  the  high  table, 
and  the  rest  of  the  household  with  all  Bidache  at 
the  next.  Madame,  who  seemed  in  nowise  fa- 
tigued by  hex-  long  ride,  was  in  the  gayest  of 
spirits  and  rippled  with  talk.  As  if  thinking  she 
had  punished  d'Ayen  enough,  she  directed  all  her 
conversation  towards  him,  and  the  old  beau  was 
in  his  element  in  discussing  the  intrigues  of  court 
life,  and,  let  me  add,  interesting,  for  his  memory 
went  far  back.     Madame  spoke  of  the  Edict,  but 


58  THE   CHEVALIER  D'AURIAC 

for  which  they  would  never  have  been  at  Bi- 
dache ;  of  the  surrender  of  Mercoeur,  and  of  the 
betrothal  of  his  daughter  Francoise  de  Lorraine, 
the  greatest  heiress  in  France,  to  Cesar  Monsieur^ 
the  little  Due  de  Vendome;  of  the  Constable  and 
his  disappointment  thereat ;  of  the  squabbles  be- 
tween M.  de  Bar  and  his  wife,  the  King*s  sister ; 
of  court  gossip  and  court  scandal,  until  Palings 
face  grew  sour,  and  I  felt  a  disappointment  within 
me,  as  she  prattled  on  like  some  Paris  beauty, 
whose  sole  thoughts  were  of  masques  at  the 
Louvre  and  hunting  parties  at  Vincennes.  Her 
cheeks  were  flushed  and  her  eyes  sparkled  as  she 
discussed  with  d'Ayen  whether  the  ruff  or  the 
collar  drooped  in  the  Italian  manner  was  the 
more  becoming,  and  whether  the  cinque  pace  dance 
was  more  enjoyable  than  the  minuet.  Pardieu ! 
Their  speech  was  all  frill  and  furbelows.  But 
for  a  word  thrown  in  here  and  there,  I  sipped  my 
Romance  in  silence,  wondering  at  this  flow  of 
talk,  and  wondering,  too,  at  this  change  of  front, 
and  if  I  was  wrong  in  my  estimate  of  Madame. 
As  she  talked,  my  head  for  a  moment  overcame 
my  heart,  and  I  began  to  judge  her  in  that  way, 
showing,  in  doing  so,  my  ignorance  of  that  com- 
plex thing — a  woman. 

At  last  the  dinner  came  to  a  close,  and  Palin, 
rising,  opened  his  lips  with  a  long  thanksgiving, 
to  which  all,  Madame  included,  listened  devoutly. 
Our  hostess  then  retired,  and  we  three  were  left 
together  in  an  absolute  silence.  Had  it  been  any 
other  place  I  would  have  felt  bound  to  call  d'Ayen 


THE   CHATEAU  DE  LA   BID  ACHE  59 

to  account,  and  ask  him  to  name  a  proxy  if  he  was 
unable  to  meet  me  by  reason  of  his  age.  But  as 
it  was  this  was  impossible,  and  I  contented  myself 
with  a  frigid  reserve,  in  which  I  was  joined  by  the 
Huguenot.  He  looked  from  one  to  the  other  of 
us  with  a  satirical  smile  on  his  thin  lips,  and  then 
rising  made  a  slight  bow  and  left  us  to  ourselves. 
As  we  returned  to  our  seats  from  our  response  to 
his  greeting,  I  blurted  out  the  questions : 
'  Who  is  M.  d* Ayen  ?     Why  is  he  here  ? ' 

*  Who  is  he  ?  It  is  enough  to  say  he  is  one  of 
those  men  who  live  on  the  follies  of  kings.  And 
it  is  enough  to  say  that  his  company  is  forced 
upon  us.* 

*  I  have  heard  that  before  ;  but  Madame  seemed 
to  like  him  well  enough  at  dinner.*  I  felt  I  was 
wrong  as  I  said  this,  but  the  words  came  out. 

'  He  is  here  by  the  King's  orders,  by  the  orders 
of  Henry  the  Great,'  said  Palin  with  bitterness. 
'  Monsieur,  you  seem  a  man  of  honour,  what  do 
you  think  of  a  king  who  would  force  a  marriage 

on  a  woman  to *  and  he  whispered  words  in 

my  ear  which  struck  me  speechless. 

I  could  not  believe  him.  It  was  incredible. 
Was  this  the  hero  king,  the  gallant  soldier,  the 
father  of  his  people?     It  could  not  be  true. 

Palin  saw  the  doubt  on  my  face. 

'  Even  you,*  he  said  ;  '  well,  go  to  Paris  and  see.* 

*  I  shall  go,  I  am  going  to-day.' 

*  It  will  be  at  the  risk  of  your  life.' 

*  Maitre  Palin,  there  is  the  King's  Peace,  and 
even  if  it  were  not  so  I  will  go.' 


6o  THE   CHEVALIER  D'AURIAC 

He  looked  at  me  long  and  attentively :  ^  Let  it 
be  so/  he  muttered  to  himself,  and  then  loudly, 
*  Well,  Chevalier,  I  have  warned  you ;  if  you  go 
you  will  want  a  safe  lodging — seek  out  Pantin  in 
the  Rue  des  Deux  Mondes,  and  mention  my 
name.  The  house  faces  the  Pont  Neuf,  you  can't 
miss  it* 

*  Thank  you,  I  will  do  so.* 

Then  after  a  few  minutes  more  of  talk  we 
wished  each  other  good-bye  and  parted. 

As  for  myself,  I  was  on  the  cross  with  what  I 
had  heard.  My  mind  was  racked  with  doubt,  and 
at  last  in  despair  I  sought  my  own  room  to  think 
over  the  matter.  I  could  make  nothing  of  it,  turn 
it  which  way  I  would.  To  me  Palin*s  story  was 
incredible.  But  yet  it  explained  and  made  clear 
so  much  !  It  was  not  to  offer  my  sword  only  to 
the  King  that  I  would  now  go  to  Paris,  it  would 
be  to  save  the  woman  I  loved  if  possible.  How 
I  was  to  do  this  I  had  no  definite  idea,  the  one 
thing  at  present  in  my  mind  was  Paris,  Paris.  I 
therefore  gave  the  necessary  orders  to  Jacques  to 
make  ready  to  start  at  once,  and,  descending  the 
winding  staircase  of  the  tower  wherein  my  room 
lay,  sought  the  great  hall  with  the  view  of  either 
finding  Madame  there,  or  of  sending  some  one 
with  the  request  to  permit  my  waiting  on  her  to 
say  good-bye.  The  staircase  ended  in  a  long  dark 
corridor,  hung  on  each  side  with  trophies  of  the 
chase,  old  armour,  and  frayed  and  tattered  ban- 
ners. At  the  end  of  this  was  an  arched  doorway 
hidden  by  a  heavy  curtain,  and  above  the  arch 


THE   CHATEAU  DE  LA   BID  ACHE  6 1 

was  a  half-length  portrait  of  a  man.  The  painter 
had  not  flattered  his  subject ;  the  long  pointed 
face  with  its  grey  beard  was  bent  forward  slightly, 
there  was  a  cynical  curve  to  the  lips,  and  the  eyes 
looked  down  on  me  as  if  with  a  laugh  in  them.  I 
had  passed  this  picture  fifty  times  before,  but  had 
never  stayed  to  examine  it.  Somehow  I  did  so  on 
this  occasion,  and  as  I  read  the  inscription  '  An- 
toine  de  la  Tremouille'  on  the  frame,  the  thin  lips 
appeared  to  lengthen  out  into  a  grin.  For  a  mo- 
ment a  chill  fell  on  me,  and  then,  laughing  at  my- 
self for  a  fool,  1  lifted  the  curtain  and  passed  into 
the  great  hall.  At  first  I  thought  it  was  empty, 
but  a  second  glance  showed  me  Madame,  seated 
at  a  small  table,  in  the  recess  of  the  bow  window 
that  overlooked  the  park.  Her  face,  leaning  on 
her  hand,  was  half  averted  from  me,  and  I  caught, 
a  glimpse  of  a  small  foot  resting  on  one  of  the 
lions'  heads  in  which  the  legs  of  the  table  finished. 
The  foot  was  beating  up  and  down  as  if  in  unison 
with  the  impatience  of  Madame's  thoughts,  but  I 
could  see  nothing  of  her  face  beyond  its  contour. 
She  was,  as  usual,  robed  in  black,  wearing  no 
jewels  except  a  gold  collar  round  her  neck.  For 
a  moment  I  stood  in  silence,  looking  at  her,  half 
thinking  that  here  was  a  chance  to  speak  out 
what  was  in  my  heart,  and  then  stilling  the  words 
by  the  thought  of  how  impossible  it  was  for  a 
poor  man  to  woo  a  rich  woman. 

Through  the  open  window  I  could  see  the 
woods,  ruddy  in  their  autumn  foliage,  and  ever 
and   again   came   the   sound    of   cheerful  voices. 


62    -  THE   CHEVALIER   D'AURIAC 

marking  where  the  good  people  of  Bidache  were 
holding  revelry  in  honour  of  their  mistress*  return. 

As  1  stood,  hat  in  hand,  Madame  suddenly 
turned  with  a  little  start,  and  hastily  concealed 
something  as  she  caught  sight  of  me.  I  went  up 
at  once,  and  she  rose  to  meet  me. 

'  I  have  come  to  say  farewell,  madame,'  and  I 
held  out  my  hand. 

'  So  soon,*  she  said,  as  she  took  it  for  a  moment, 
her  eyes  not  meeting  mine. 

'  Yes — Paris  is  far — and  it  will  be  well  for  me 
to  be  there  as  quickly  as  possible.* 

'  Paris  !    You  are  surely  not — *  and  she  stopped. 

*  Why  not,  madame  ?  ' 

'Oh!  I  don*t  know,*  and  hastily,  *  one  some- 
times says  things  that  don*t  exactly  convey  one*s 
meaning.  But  I  can  imagine  why  you  go  to 
Paris — you  are  tired  of  Bidache,  and  pine  for  the 
great  city.* 

'  It  is  not  that ;  but,*  and  I  pointed  to  the  rolling 
woods  and  wide  lands  that  spread  before  us,  '  I 
have  no  responsibilities  like  these — and  Auriac, 
which  stands  by  the  sea,  takes  care  of  itself — be- 
sides, I  have  my  way  to  make  as  yet.' 

'  You  have  friends  ? ' 

*  One  at  any  rate,  and  that  was  restored  to  me 
by  you,*  and  I  glanced  to  the  hilt  of  my  sword. 

'  Man  does  not  want  a  better ;  but  you  have  an- 
other— here  at  Bidache,  and  I  shall  be  in  Paris 
soon,  too,  and — this  place  is  dull.     It  kills  me.' 

*  And  yet  you  have  not  been  here  for  three  years 
— madame,  are  all  the  masques  at  the  Louvre  so 


THE   CHATEAU  DE  LA   BID  ACHE  63 

attractive  that  you  can  desert  your  home,  where 
your  name  is  honoured  as  that  of  the  King,  for 
the  follies  of  the  court  ?  * 

I  spoke  with  some  bitterness,  for  I  was  sore  at 
what  I  had  heard  at  dinner,  and  she  glanced  up  at 
me  in  a  slight  surprise.  Then  her  lips  parted  in  a 
half  smile.  '  Chevalier,  will  you  answer  me  a 
question  or  so  ?  * 

'  Why  not  ?  ' 

*  You  like  gaiety,  cheerfulness,  light,  do  you 
not?* 

'  Assuredly.* 

*  You  sometimes  amuse  yourself  by  gaming,  do 
you  not — and  losing  more  than  you  can  afford  ? ' 

I  bowed  in  simple  wonder. 

*  That  friend  of  yours  at  your  side  has  not  been 
drawn  only  in  battle,  has  it  ?  * 

De  Gonnor's  white  face  rose  up  before  me,  and 
I  felt  my  forehead  burn.  I  could  make  no  answer. 
Madame  looked  at  me  for  a  moment,  and  then 
dropped  a  stately  little  courtesy.  *  Monsieur,  you 
are  very  good  to  advise  me,  and  I  take  your  re- 
proof. But  surely  what  is  sauce  for  the  gander 
is  sauce  for  the  goose.  Is  not  the  Chevalier 
d' Auriac  a  little  hasty  ?  How  is  it  that  he  is  not 
at  home  at  Auriac,  instead  of  hastening  to  Paris 
as  fast  as  he  can — to  the  masques  at  the  Louvre, 
and  the  salons  of  Zamet  ?  * 

'  It  is  different,*  I  stammered. 

'  Ah,  yes,  it  is  different,*  with  a  superb  scorn ;  *  I 
saw  you  pull  a  half  league  of  face  as  I  talked  at 
dinner.     Monsieur  can  go  here.  Monsieur  can  go 


64  THE   CHEVALIER  D'AURIAC 

there.  He  may  dance  at  a  revel  from  curfew  till 
cockcrow,  he  may  stake  his  estates  on  a  throw  of 
the  dice,  he  may  run  his  friend  through  for  a 
word  spoken  in  jest — it  is  all  coinme  il  faut.  But, 
Madame — she  must  sit  at  home  with  her  distaff, 
her  only  relaxation  a  prichey  her  amusement  and 
joy  to  await  Monsieur's  return — is  not  that  your 
idea.  Chevalier?'  She  was  laughing,  but  it  was 
with  a  red  spot  on  each  cheek. 

'  Madame,'  I  replied,  *  when  I  was  but  fifteen  I 
joined  the  Cardinal  de  Joyeuse,  and  from  that 
time  to  now  my  life  has  been  passed  in  the  field ; 
I  am  therefore  but  a  soldier,  rough  of  speech,  un- 
used to  argument,  apt  to  say  what  is  in  my  mind 
bluntly.  I  was  wrong  to  make  the  remark  I  did, 
and  ask  your  pardon ;  but,  madame,  brush  away 
the  idea  that  in  this  case  the  sauce  for  the  gander 
is  sauce  for  the  goose — I  use  your  own  words 
— think  what  it  would  be  if  all  womankind  acted 
on  what  you  have  preached — think  what  would 
happen  if  the  illusions  that  surround  you,  and 
which  are  now  your  strength,  are  dispelled.  The 
worst  of  men  have  some  memory  of  a  home  made 
happy  by  a  woman,  sister,  mother,  or  wife,  and  the 
return  to  which  was  like  a  glimpse  into  heaven — 
the  thought  of  which  often  made  them  better  men 
— do  not  destroy  this.  And,  madame,  there  is  yet 
another  thing — man  is  a  fighting  animal,  and  the 
final  issues  of  an  affair  come  to  the  sword — where 
would  a  struggle  between  this  hand  and  mine 
end  ? — '  in  my  eagerness  I  took  her  small  white 
fingers  in  mine  as  I  spoke,  and  shut  them  within 


THE   CHATEAU  DE  LA   BID  ACHE  65 

my  palm — '  Madame,'  I  continued,  '  rest  assured 
that  the  glory  and  strength  of  a  woman  is  in  her 
weakness,  and  when  she  puts  aside  that  armour 
she  is  lost.  Think  not  that  you  have  no  mission 
— it  is  at  a  mother's  knee  that  empires  have  been 
lost  and  won,  that  generations  have,  and  will  be, 
cursed  or  blessed/ 

I  stood  over  her  as  I  spoke ;  I  was  a  tall  man 
then  and  strong,  and  whether  it  was  my  speech 
or  what  I  know  not,  but  I  felt  the  hand  I  held 
tremble  in  mine,  and  her  eyes  were  turned  from 
me. 

^  Let  me  say  good-bye  now,*  I  continued,  *  and 
thank  you  again  for  what  you  have  done.* 

She  shook  her  head  in  deprecation. 

'  Very  well,  then,  I  will  not  recall  it  to  you  ;  but 
I  can  never  forget — life  is  sweet  of  savour,  and 
you  gave  it  back  to  me.  We  will  meet  again  in 
Paris — till  then  good-bye.* 

*  At  the  Louvre  ?  *  As  she  glanced  up  at  me, 
trying  to  smile,  I  saw  her  eyes  were  moist  with 
tears,  and  then — but  the  wide  lands  of  Bidache 
were  before  me,  and  I  held  myself  in  somehow. 

'  Good-bye.' 

*  Good-bye.' 

I  turned,  and  without  another  look  passed  out 
of  the  hall.  As  I  went  down  the  stairway  I  saw 
on  the  terrace  to  my  right  the  figure  of  d'Ayen. 
He  had  changed  his  costume  to  the  slashed  and 
puffed  dress  which  earned  for  the  gay  gentlemen 
of  Henry's  court  the  nickname  of  '  Bigarrets,' 
from  M.  de  Savoye's  caustic  tongue,  and  his  wi- 
5 


66  THE   CHEVALIER  D'AURIAC 

zened  face  stood  out  of  his  snowy  rufi  in  all  the 
glow  of  its  fresh  paint.  With  one  foot  resting  on 
the  parapet,  he  was  engaged  in  throwing  crumbs 
to  the  peacocks  that  basked  on  the  turf  beneath 
him.     I  would  have  passed,  but  he  called  out. 

*  M.  le  Chevalier — a  word.' 

*  A  word  then  only,  sir,  I  am  in  haste.' 

'  A  bad  thing,  haste,'  he  said,  staring  at  me  from 
head  to  foot;  *  these  woods  would  fetch  a  good 
price,  would  they  not  ? '  and  he  waved  his  hand 
towards  the  wide-stretching  forest. 

'  You  mistake,  M.  d'Ayen,  I  am  not  a  timber 
merchant.' 

'  Oh !  a  good  price,'  he  went  on,  not  heeding  my 
reply.  *  M.  le  Chevalier,  I  was  going  to  say  I  will 
have  them  down  when  I  am  master  here.  They 
obstruct  the  view.' 

I  could  have  flung  him  from  the  terrace,  but 
held  myself  in  and  turned  on  my  heel. 

'  Adieu  !  Chevalier,'  he  called  out  after  me,  'and 
remember  what  I  have  said.' 

I  took  no  notice.  The  man  was  old,  and  his 
gibing  tongue  his  only  weapon.  I  ran  down  the 
steps  to  where  Jacques  was,  ready  for  me  with  the 
horses.  Springing  into  the  saddle,  I  put  spurs  to 
the  beast,  and  we  dashed  down  the  avenue,  but  as 
1  did  so  I  yielded  to  an  impulse,  and  glanced  up 
to  the  window — it  was  empty. 


CHAPTER  V 

A  GOOD   DEED   COMES   HOME   TO   ROOST 

We  dashed  through  the  streets  of  Bidache, 
arousing  the  village  dogs  asleep  in  the  yellow- 
sunlight  to  a  chorus  of  disapprobation.  About  a 
dozen  sought  to  revenge  their  disturbed  slumbers, 
and,  following  the  horses,  snapped  viciously  at 
their  heels;  but  we  soon  distanced  them,  and 
flinging  a  curse  or  so  after  us,  in  dog  language, 
they  gave  up  the  pursuit,  and  returned  to  blink 
away  the  afternoon.  It  was  my  intention  to  keep 
to  the  right  of  Ivry,  and  after  crossing  the  Eure, 
head  straight  for  Paris,  which  I  would  enter  either 
by  way  of  Versailles  or  St.  Germains  ;  it  mattered 
little  what  road,  and  there  was  plenty  of  time  to 
decide. 

I  have,  however,  to  confess  here  to  a  weakness, 
and  that  was  my  disappointment  that  Madame 
had  not  stayed  to  see  the  last  of  me.  Looking 
back  upon  it,  I  am  perfectly  aware  that  I  had  no 
right  to  have  any  feeling  in  the  matter  whatso- 
ever; but  let  any  one  who  has  been  placed  simi- 
larly to  myself  be  asked  to  lay  bare  his  heart — I 
would  stake  my  peregrine,  Etoile,  to  a  hedge  crow 
on  the  result. 

Madame  knew  I  loved  her.  She  must  have  seen 

67 


68  THE   CHEVALIER  D'AURIAC 

the  hunger  in  my  eyes,  as  I  watched  her  come 
and  go,  in  the  days  when  I  lay  at  Ste.  Genevieve, 
wounded  to  death.  She  must  have  felt  the  words 
I  crushed  down,  I  know  not  how,  when  we  parted. 
She  knew  it  all.  Every  woman  knows  how  a  man 
stands  towards  her.  I  was  going  away.  I  might 
never  see  her  again.  It  was  little  to  have  waved 
me  Godspeed  as  I  rode  on  my  way,  and  yet  that 
little  was  not  given. 

In  this  manner,  like  the  fool  I  was,  I  rasped  and 
fretted,  easing  my  unhappy  temper  by  letting  the 
horse  feel  the  rowels,  and  swearing  at  myself  for 
a  whining  infant  that  wept  for  a  slice  of  the  moon. 

For  a  league  or  so  we  galloped  along  the  undu- 
lating ground  which  sloped  towards  the  ford  near 
Ezy ;  but  as  we  began  to  approach  the  river,  the 
country,  studded  with  apple  orchards,  and  trim 
with  hedgerows  of  holly  and  hawthorn,  broke  into 
a  wild  and  rugged  moorland,  intersected  by  ra- 
vines, whose  depths  were  concealed  by  a  tall  un- 
dergrowth of  Christ*s  Thorn  and  hornbeam,  whilst 
beyond  this,  in  russet,  in  sombre  greens,  and  greys 
that  faded  into  absolute  blue,  stretched  the  forests 
and  woods  of  Anet  and  Croth-Sorel. 

In  the  flood  of  the  mellow  sunlight  the  count- 
less bells  of  heather  enamelling  the  roadside  were 
clothed  in  royal  purple,  and  the  brown  tips  of  the 
bracken  glistened  like  shafts  of  beaten  gold.  At 
times  the  track  took  its  course  over  the  edge  of  a 
steep  bank,  and  here  we  slackened  pace,  picking 
our  way  over  the  crumbling  earth,  covered  with 
grass,  whose  growth  was  choked  by  a  network  of 


^V  i^  \^kJ  X 


twining  cranesbill,  gay  with  its  crimson  flowers, 
and  listening  to  the  dreamy  humming  of  the  rest- 
less bees,  and  the  cheerful,  if  insistent,  skirl  of  the 
grass  crickets,  from  their  snug  retreats  amidst 
the  yarrow  and  sweet-scented  thyme. 

As  we  slid  rather  than  rode  down  one  of  these 
banks,  my  horse  cast  a  shoe,  and  this  put  a  stop 
to  any  further  hard  riding  until  the  mishap  could 
be  repaired. 

*  There  is  a  smith  at  Ezy,  monsieur,'  said  Jacques, 
*  where  we  can  get  what  we  want  done,  and  then 
push  on  to  Rouvres,  where  there  is  good  accom- 
modation at  the  Grand  Cerf' 

'  I  suppose  Ezy  can  give  us  nothing  in  that  way  ?' 

'  I  doubt  much,  monsieur,  for  the  place  sank  to 
nothing  when  Monseigneur  the  Due  d'Aumale 
was  exiled,  and  the  King,  as  monsieur  is  aware, 
has  given  the  castle  to  Madame  Gabrielle,  for  her 
son,  little  Char  Monsieur — the  Due  de  Vendome.' 

'  Morbleu  !  It  is  well  that  Madame  de  Beaufort 
has  not  set  eyes  on  Auriac — eh,  Jacques?  '  and  I 
laughed  as  I  saw  the  huge  grey  outlines  of  Anet 
rising  in  the  foreground,  and  thought  how  secure 
my  barren,  stormbeaten  rock  was  from  the  rapa- 
city of  the  King's  mistress. 

Jacques  came  of  a  rugged  race,  and  my  words 
roused  him. 

'  But  M.  le  Chevalier  would  never  let  Auriac 
fall  into  the  hands  of  the  King  or  his  Madame? 
We  could  man  the  tower  with  a  hundred  stout 
hearts  and ' 

'  Swing  on  the  gibbet  at  the  castle  gates  in  two 


70  THE   CHEVALIER  D'AURIAC 

weeks,  Jacques.  But  remember,  we  are  loyal 
subjects  now,  and  are  going  to  Paris  to  serve  the 
King.' 

*  As  for  me,'  answered  Jacques,  obstinately,  'I 
serve  my  master,  the  Chevalier  de  Breuil  d*  Auriac, 
and  none  besides/ 

In  this  manner  we  jogged  along,  making  but 
slow  progress,  and  the  sun  was  setting  when  we 
came  in  view  of  the  willow-lined  banks  of  the  Eure, 
and  entered  the  walnut  groves  of  the  outlying 
forest  in  which  Ezy  lay.  As  we  approached  we 
saw  that  the  village  was  three  parts  deserted,  and 
the  ruined  orchards  and  smokeless  chimneys  told 
their  own  tale.  Turning  a  bend  of  the  grass- 
grown  road  we  came  upon  a  few  children  shaking 
walnuts  from  a  tree,  about  two  hundred  paces 
from  us,  whilst  a  man  and  a  woman  stood  hard 
by  observing  them.  At  the  sight  of  us  the  woman 
turned  to  the  man  with  an  alarmed  gesture,  and 
he  half  drew  a  sword — we  saw  the  white  flash, 
and  then,  changing  his  mind,  ran  off  into  the  fo- 
rest. The  children  followed  suit,  sliding  down  the 
trunk  of  the  tree,  and  fleeing  into  the  brushwood, 
looking  for  all  the  world  like  little  brown  rabbits 
as  they  dashed  into  the  gaps  in  the  thorn. 

As  for  the  woman,  she  turned  slowly  and  began 
to  walk  towards  the  village. 

*  They  are  very  bashful  here,  Jacques,*  I  said, 
quickening  my  pace. 

*  Except  the  lady,  monsieur,'  and  then  we  trotted 
up  alongside  her. 

Reining  in,  I  asked  if  she  could  direct  me  to  the 


A    GOOD  DEED    COMES  HOME   TO  ROOST    7 1 

blacksmith's,  for  there  seemed  no  sign  of  a  forge 
about.  She  made  no  answer  but  stopped  and 
stared  at  us  through  her  hair,  which  fell  in  thick 
masses  over  her  forehead  and  neck.  As  she  did 
this  I  saw  that  she  appeared  to  be  of  the  superior 
peasant  class,  but  evidently  sunk  in  poverty.  She 
was  young,  and  her  features  so  correct  that  with 
circumstances  a  little  altered  she  would  have  been 
more  than  ordinarily  good-looking.  At  present, 
however,  the  face  was  wan  with  privation,  and 
there  was  a  frightened  look  in  her  eyes.  I  re- 
peated my  question  in  as  gentle  a  tone  as  I  could 
command,  and  she  found  tongue. 

'  There  is  none  here,  monsieur  ;  but  at  Anet  you 
will  find  everything.  That  is  the  way,  see ! '  and 
she  pointed  down  a  winding  glade,  lit  up  here 
and  there  with  bars  of  sunlight  until  it  faded  into 
a  dark  tunnel  of  over-arching  trees.  I  felt  con- 
vinced from  her  tone  and  manner  that  she  was 
trying  to  put  us  off,  and  Jacques  burst  in. 

'  Nonsense,  my  girl,  I  know  there  is  a  smith  at 
Ezy,  for  but  two  days  back  one  of  Madame  of 
Bidache's  horses  was  shod  here.  You  don't  know 
your  own  village — try  and  think.' 

'  There  is  none,'  she  said  shortly. 

'  Very  well,'  said  Jacques,  *  we  won't  trouble 
you  further,  and  we  will  find  out  for  ourselves. 
It  will  not  be  difficult.' 

We  went  on  a  pace  or  so,  when  she  called  out 
after  us. 

*  Monsieur ! ' 

^  What  is  it?' 


72  THE   CHEVALIER  D'AURIAC 

She  stood  twisting  the  ends  of  her  apron  be- 
tween her  fingers  and  then,  suddenly, 

*  Monsieur,  pardon,  I  will  guide  you.* 

'  Oh  !  that  is  all  very  well,'  began  Jacques ;  but 
I  interrupted  him,  wondering  a  little  to  myself 
what  this  meant. 

*  Very  well  and  thanks.' 

She  dropped  a  courtesy,  and  then  asked  with  a 
timid  eagerness, 

*  Monsieur  does  not  come  from  the  Blaisois  ? ' 

^ Ma  foil  No!  This  is  hardly  the  way  from 
the  Orleannois  ;  but  lead  on,  please,  it  grows  late.' 

She  glanced  up  again,  a  suspicion  in  her  eyes, 
and  then  without  another  word  went  on  before  us. 
We  followed  her  down  the  winding  grass-grown 
lane,  past  a  few  straggling  cottages  where  not  a 
soul  was  visible,  and  up  through  the  narrow  street, 
where  the  sight  of  us  drove  the  few  wretched  in- 
habitants into  their  tunible-down  houses,  as  if  we 
had  the  plague  itself  at  our  saddle  bows.  Finally 
we  stopped  before  a  cottage  of  some  pretensions 
to  size  ;  but  decayed  and  worn,  as  all  else  was  in 
this  village,  which  seemed  but  half  alive.  Over 
the  entrance  to  the  cottage  hung  a  faded  sign- 
board, marking  that  it  was  the  local  hostelry,  and 
to  the  right  was  a  small  shed,  apparently  used  as 
a  workshop  ;  and  here  the  smith  was,  seated  on  a 
rough  bench,  gazing  into  space. 

He  rose  at  our  approach  and  made  as  if  he 
would  be  off;  but  his  daughter,  as  the  young  wo- 
man turned  out  to  be,  gave  him  a  sign  to  stay,  and 
he  halted,  muttering  something  I  could  not  catch ; 


A    GOOD  DEED    COMES  HOME   TO  ROOST    73 

and  as  I  looked  at  the  gloomy  figure  of  the  man, 
and  the  musty  inn,  I  said  out  aloud,  '  Morbleu  ! 
But  it  is  well  we  have  time  to  mend  our  trouble 
and  make  Rouvres ;  thanks,  my  girl,  you  might 
have  told  us  at  once  instead  of  making  all  this 
fuss,'  and  bending  from  the  saddle  I  offered  our 
guide  a  coin.  She  fairly  snatched  at  it,  and  then^ 
colouring  up,  turned  and  ran  into  the  inn.  I 
threw  another  coin  to  the  smith  and  bade  him  set 
about  shoeing  the  horse. 

He  shuffled  this  way  and  that,  and  then  an- 
swered dully  that  he  would  do  the  job  willingly, 
but  it  would  take  time — two  hours. 

*  But  it  will  be  night  by  then,*  I  expostulated, 
*  and  I  have  to  go  on ;  I  cannot  stay  here.* 

*  As  monsieur  chooses,*  answered  the  clod ;  *  but, 
you  see,  I  have  nothing  ready,  and  I  am  slow 
now  ;  I  cannot  help  it.* 

*  This  is  a  devil  of  a  place,*  I  exclaimed,  resign- 
ing myself  to  circumstances,  and,  dismounting, 
handed  the  reins  to  Jacques.  As  I  did  so  1  heard 
voices  from  the  inn,  one  apparently  that  of  the 
girl,  and  the  other  that  of  a  man,  and  it  would  seem 
that  she  was  urging  something ;  but  what  it  was 
I  could  not  catch,  nor  was  I  curious  as  to  the 
point  of  discussion  ;  but  it  struck  me  that  as  we 
had  to  wait  here  two  hours  it  would  be  well  to 
inquire  if  I  could  get  some  reifreshment  for  our- 
selves and  a  feed  for  the  beasts.  For  answer  to 
my  question  1  got  a  gruff  '  Go  and  ask  my  daugh- 
ter,* from  the  smith,  who  turned  as  he  spoke  and 
began  to  fumble  with  his  tools.     I  felt  my  temper 


74  THE   CHEVALIER  D'AURIAC 

rising  hotly,  but  stayed  my  arm,  and  bidding 
Jacques  keep  an  eye  on  the  horses,  stepped  to- 
wards the  door  of  the  inn.  As  I  put  my  hand 
on  it  to  press  it  open  some  one  from  within  made 
an  effort  to  keep  it  shut ;  but  I  was  in  no  mood  to 
be  trifled  with  further,  and,  pushing  back  the  door 
without  further  ceremony,  stepped  in.  In  doing 
so  I  thrust  some  one  back  a  yard  or  so,  and  found 
that  it  was  the  girl  who  was  trying  to  bar  me  out. 
Ashamed  of  the  violence  I  had  shown,  I  began  to 
apologise,  whilst  she  stood  before  me  rubbing  her 
elbow,  and  her  face  flushed  and  red.  The  room 
was  bare  and  drear  beyond  description.  There 
were  a  couple  of  rough  tables,  a  chair  or  so,  an 
iron  pot  simmering  over  a  fire  of  green  wood 
whose  pungent  odour  filled  the  chamber.  In  a 
corner  a  man  lay  apparently  asleep,  a  tattered 
cloak  drawn  over  his  features  so  as  to  entirely 
conceal  them.  I  felt  in  a  moment  that  this  was 
the  stranger  who  had  fled  on  our  approach,  and 
that  he  was  playing  fox.  Guessing  there  was 
more  behind  this  than  appeared,  but  not  showing 
any  suspicions  in  the  least,  I  addressed  the  girl. 

'  I  am  truly  sorry,  and  hope  you  are  not  hurt ; 
had  I  known  it  was  you  I  should  have  been  gen- 
tler. I  have  but  come  to  ask  if  I  can  get  some 
wine  for  ourselves  and  food  for  the  horses.* 

'  It  is  nothing,'  she  stammered,  *  I  am  not  hurt. 
There  is  but  a  little  soup  here,  and  for  the  horses 
— the  grass  that  grows  outside.* 

*  There  is  some  wine  there  at  any  rate,*  and  I 
rested  my  eye  on  a  horn  cup,  down  whose  side  a 


A    GOOD  DEED    COMES  HOME    TO  ROOST    75 

red  drop  was  trickling,  and  then  let  it  fall  on  the 
still  figure  in  the  corner  of  the  room.  '  There  is 
no  fear/  I  continued,  '  you  will  be  paid.  I  do  not 
look  like  a  gentleman  of  the  road,  I  trust  ?  * 

She  shrank  back  at  my  words,  and  it  appeared 
as  if  a  hand  moved  suddenly  under  the  cloak  of 
the  man  who  lay  feigning  sleep  in  the  room,  and 
the  quick  movement  was  as  if  he  had  clutched  the 
haft  of  a  dagger.  I  was  never  a  brawler  or  blus- 
terer, and  least  of  all  did  I  wish  to  worry  these 
poor  people  ;  but  the  times  were  such  that  a  man's 
safety  lay  chiefly  in  himself,  for  the  writ  of  the 
King  ran  weak  in  the  outlying  districts.  The 
whole  business,  too,  was  so  strange  that  I  was  de- 
termined to  fathom  it ;  and,  unbuckling  my  sword, 
I  placed  it  on  a  table  so  as  to  be  ready  on  the  in- 
stant, and  then,  seating  myself  on  a  stool  beside 
it,  said  somewhat  sharply, 

'  Enough,  my  girl ;  get  me  some  wine  and  take 
out  some  to  my  servant.  This  will  pay  for  it,*  and 
I  rang  a  fat  crown  piece  on  the  table.  *  Hurry 
your  father  if  you  can,  and  I  will  be  gone  the  mo- 
ment my  horse  is  shod.' 

My  tone  was  one  not  to  be  denied,  and  taking 
up  the  money  she  turned  to  a  cupboard  and  with 
shaking  fingers  drew  a  bottle  therefrom  and  placed 
it  before  me.  Filling  a  cup  I  asked  her  to  bear  it 
out  to  Jacques,  and  then  leaning  back  against  the 
wall  took  a  pull  at  my  own  goblet,  and  judge  of 
my  surprise  when  I  found  I  was  tasting  nothing 
short  of  d'Arbois  of  the  '92  vintage  ! 

As  I  sipped  my  wine,    and   speculated  how  it 


1(>  THE   CHEVALIER  D'AURIAC 

came  there,  the  girl  came  back,  and  seeing  that 
matters  were  as  before  began  to  attend  to  her 
cooking.  Whatever  she  had  said  to  the  smith 
apparently  had  the  effect  of  rousing  him  to  greater 
activity,  for  through  the  open  door  I  heard  the 
puffing  of  his  bellows,  and  very  soon  came  the 
clang,  clang  of  his  hammer  as  he  beat  out  a  shoe. 

It  was  getting  dark  now  within  the  room,  over 
which  the  flames  of  the  fire  occasionally  blazed 
up  and  cast  a  fitful  and  uncertain  light.  Outside, 
however,  there  was  a  moon  ;  and,  in  a  few  mi- 
nutes at  the  most,  my  horse  would  be  shod  and  I 
would  have  to  continue  my  journey  without  ha- 
ving discovered  what  this  little  mystery  meant.  I 
could  not  help  being  a  little  amused  at  the  manner 
in  which  my  bashful  friend,  whose  face  was  so 
well  covered  up,  kept  himself  a  prisoner  in  his 
corner.  But  at  this  moment  the  girl's  cooking 
was  finished,  and  the  savoury  odour  of  it  was  ap- 
parently more  than  he  could  endure,  for  he  sud- 
denly sprang  to  his  feet  exclaiming, 

*■  Nom  du  diable  I  I  am  sick  of  this,  and  hungry 
as  a  wolf.  Give  me  my  supper,  Marie,  and  if  he 
wants  to  take  me  let  him  do  so  if  he  can  ;  he  will 
have  to  fight  an  old  soldier  first* 

As  he  spoke  I  distinctly  saw  his  hand  indicate 
me,  and  with  an  alarmed  cry  the  girl  sprang  be- 
tween us.  It  flashed  upon  me  that  my  gentleman 
was,  after  all,  only  some  one  who  was  wanted,  and 
that  he  regarded  me  with  as  much  apprehension 
as  I  had  regarded  him  with  caution. 

'  Tush  !  *  I  said,  '  you  good  people  make  a  great 


A    GOOD   DEED    COMES  HOME   TO   ROOST    77 

fuss  over  nothing.  I  certainly  do  not  want  to 
take  you,  my  man,  and  neither  you  nor  your  little 
sweetheart  here  need  be  in  the  least  alarmed/ 

I  had  hardly  finished  speaking  when  he  rushed 
forward. 

'  It  is  the  Chevalier  !  It  is  Monsieur  d*Auriac! 
Idiot,  turkey,  pig  that  I  am  to  have  kept  my  eyes 
shut  and  not  recognised  you.  Monsieur,  do  you 
not  know  me — Nicholas — your  sergeant,  whom 
you  saved  from  the  rope  ?  * 

'  Where  you  appear  likely  to  go  again,  Nicholas ; 
but  what  are  you  skulking  about  here  for  ?  '  The 
wood  in  the  fireplace  blazed  up  as  I  spoke,  and  I 
saw  Nicholas  shift  uneasily  and  look  at  the  girl, 
who  had  moved  to  his  side,  and  stood  with  her 
hands  holding  on  to  his  cloak. 

'  This  place  was  my  home  once,  monsieur,*  he 
said  bitterly,  *  and  I  have  come  back  to  it.* 

*  I  see  you  have,  sergeant ;  but  why  in  this 
way?* 

'  Monsieur,  I  was  driven  to  straits  and  did  a 
thing.  Then  they  hunted  me  from  Dreux  to 
Rouvres,  from  Rouvres  to  Anet * 

*  Where  you  appear  to  have  made  free  with  the 
duke*s  cellar,  eh  ?  * 

*  It  is  not  so,  monsieur,*  burst  in  the  girl ; 
'neither  he  nor  we  have  done  that.  The  wine 
you  have  drunk  was  a  gift  from  madame  the 
duchess.* 

There  was  truth  in  every  line  of  her  features, 
in  the  fierce  little  gesture  with  which  she  turned 
upon  me  in  defence  of  her  lover.     I  was  sorry  to 


78  THE   CHEVALIER   D'AURIAC 

let  my  tongue  bite  so  hard,  and  said  so,  and  went 
on  with  my  inquiries. 

*  And  from  Anet  you  came  here  ?* 

*  It  is  but  a  stone-throw,*  Nicholas  answered, 
*  and  I  had  a  business  in  hand.  After  which  we 
were  going  away.* 

Whilst  he  was  speaking  Marie  lit  a  lantern,  and 
I  saw  that  my  ex-sergeant  was  evidently  in  the 
lowest  water.  He  had  been  a  smart  soldier,  but 
was  now  unkempt  and  dirty,  and  his  eye  had  the 
shifty  look  of  a  hunted  animal.  He  wore  a  rusty 
corselet  and  a  rustier  chain  cap  on  his  head,  drawn 
over  a  bandage  that  covered  his  ears.  As  my 
eye  fell  on  the  bandage  I  called  to  mind  the  mu- 
tilation that  had  been  inflicted  on  him,  a  brand 
that  had  cast  him  out  of  the  pale  of  all  honest 
men.  Nicholas  watched  my  glance,  and  ground 
his  teeth  with  rage. 

'  I  will  kill  him,*  he  hissed,  *  kill  him  like  the 
dog  he  is.     Monsieur,  that  was  my  business !  * 

*Then  de  Gomeron ' 

*  Is  but  an  hour's  ride  away,  monsieur  —  at 
Anet.* 

'  At  Anet !     What  does  he  do  there  ?  * 

*  Monsieur,'  he  answered  hoarsely,  taking  me 
by  the  sleeve  of  my  doublet,  '  I  know  not ;  but  a 
fortnight  ago  he  came  here  with  a  score  of  lances 
at  his  back  and  the  King's  commission  in  his  pock- 
et, and  he  lords  it  as  if  he  were  the  duke  him- 
self. Yesterday  a  great  noble  came  up  from  the 
Blaisois,  and  another  whose  name  I  know  not  has 
come  from  Paris  ;  and  they  hatch  treason  against 


A    GOOD  DEED    COMES  HOME    TO  ROOST    79 

the  King.  Monsieur,  I  can  prove  this.  You 
saved  my  life  once,  and,  beast  as  I  am  now,  I  am 
still  grateful.  Come  with  me.  I  will  settle  my 
score  with  him ;  and  to-morrow  you  can  bear 
news  to  the  court  that  will  make  you  a  great 
man.* 

It  was  one  of  those  moments  that  require  in- 
stant decision.  I  was  certainly  not  going  to  as- 
sist Nicholas  in  committing  a  murder.  Any  such 
plan  of  his  could  be  easily  stopped,  but  if  what 
the  man  said  was  true,  then  he  had  given  me  in- 
formation that  might  be  of  the  greatest  value  to 
me.  If  it  was  false — well  then,  I  should  have  a 
fooFs  errand  for  my  pains,  but  be  otherwise  none 
the  worse  off.  There  was  no  time  to  question 
him  in  detail  ;  for  a  second  I  was  silent,  and  Ma- 
rie looked  from  one  to  another  of  us  with  wide- 
open  eyes. 

*  You  have  a  horse?*  I  asked. 

*  Yes,  monsieur.  It  is  hidden  in  the  forest  not 
three  hundred  toises  from  here.* 

*  We  are  ready.  Monsieur  le  Chevalier,'  and 
Jacques*  voice  broke  in  upon  us,  Jacques  himself 
standing  in  the  doorway.  My  mind  was  made 
up  that  instant,  and  I  decided  to  take  the  chance. 

*  Jacques,'  I  said,  *  I  have  business  here  to-night, 
which  must  be  done  alone.  Ride  on  therefore 
yourself  to  Rouvres  and  await  me  at  the  Grand 
Cerf.  If  anyone  tries  to  hinder  you,  say  that  you 
ride  for  your  master  in  the  King*s  name.  If  I  am 
not  at  Rouvres  by  morning,  make  your  way  to 
Septeuil.     If  I  do  not  arrive  in  two  days,  go  home 


So  THE   CHEVALIER  D'AURIAC 

and   do   the    best   you  can    for  yourself.      You 
follow?^ 

*  Monsieur.' 

*  Adieu,  then  ;  and  Marie,  here  is  something  as 
a  wedding  portion  for  you,*  and  I  thrust  a  hand- 
ful of  gold  pieces  into  her  palm,  and,  being  moved 
by  many  things,  added  :  '  When  this  is  over,  you 
and  Nicholas  go  to  Auriac.  I  will  arrange  for 
you  there.* 

The  girl  stared  blankly  at  me  for  a  moment, 
then  suddenly  caught  my  hand  and  kissed  it,  and 
then  with  a  rapid  movement  flung  herself  into 
her  lover's  arms. 

*  No,'  she  said,  *  no  ;  take  back  your  gift,  mon- 
sieur.    He  will  not  go.' 

'  Nonsense,  Marie,' and  Nicholas  gently  released 
her  arms.  *  I  have  come  back  to  you  to  mend 
my  ways,  and  must  begin  by  paying  my  debts. 
Come,  monsieur.' 


CHAPTER  VI 

*  GREEN   AS    A   JADE   CUP' 

We  passed  the  lacework  of  trees  that  bordered 
the  skirts  of  the  forest,  Nicholas  and  I.  On  our 
left  we  could  hear  the  drumming  of  a  horse's 
hoofs  growing  fainter  and  more  faint,  as  Jacques 
rode  through  the  night  to  Rouvres.  Marie's  wai- 
ling came  to  us  from  behind,  and  Nicholas,  who 
was  walking  doggedly  along  by  the  neck  of  my 
horse,  stopped  short  suddenly  and  looked  back. 
Turning  in  my  saddle  I  looked  back  too,  and 
there  she  was,  in  shadowy  outline,  at  the  ruined 
gates  of  the  inn,  and  again  her  sobbing  cry  came 
to  us. 

'  Morbleu ! '  I  muttered  to  myself  as  I  saw 
Nicholas'  face  twitch  in  the  moonlight ;  *  I  must 
end  this  at  once,'  and  then  sharply  to  my  compa- 
nion, '  What  stays  you  ?  Pick  your  heart  up,  man  ! 
One  would  think  you  go  into  the  bottomless  pit, 
you  walk  with  so  tender  a  foot ! ' 

'  I  don't  know  what  is  in  the  bottomless  pit, 
monsieur,  and,  like  other  fools,  would  probably 
go  there  on  the  run ;  but  I  do  know  the  mercy  of 
M.  de  Gomeron,  and — I  am  not  wont  to  be  so, 
but  my  heart  is  as  heavy  as  lead.' 
6  8i 


82  THE   CHEVALIER   D'AURIAC 

'  Very  well ;  then  let  us  go  back.  It  is  like  to 
be  a  fool's  errand  with  such  a  guide/ 

My  words,  and  the  tone  they  were  uttered  in, 
touched  him  on  the  raw,  and  he  swung  round. 

*  I  will  go,  monsieur  ;  this  way — to  the  right.' 

We  turned  sharply  behind  the  silently  waving 
arms  of  a  hedge  of  hornbeam,  and  it  was  a  relief 
to  find  that  this  cut  away  all  further  chance  of 
seeing  the  pitiful  figure  at  the  gates  of  the  inn. 
Nicholas  drew  the  folds  of  his  frayed  cloak  over 
his  head,  as  if  to  shut  out  all  sound,  and  hurried 
onwards — a  tall  figure,  lank  and  dark,  that  flitted 
before  me  within  the  shadow  of  the  hedgerow. 
My  horse's  knees  were  hidden  by  the  under- 
growth on  either  side  of  the  winding  track,  that 
twined  and  twisted  like  a  snake  under  the  tangle 
of  grass  and  weed.  This  waste  over  which  we 
passed,  grey-green  in  the  moonlight,  and  swaying 
in  the  wind,  rolled  like  a  heaving,  sighing  sea  to 
where  it  was  brought  up  abruptly  by  the  dark 
mass  of  the  forest,  standing  up  solidly  against  the 
sky  as  though  it  were  a  high  coast  line.  As  we 
forced  our  way  onwards,  the  swish  of  the  grass 
was  as  the  churning  of  water  at  the  bows  of  a  boat, 
and  one  could  well  imagine  that  the  long,  shaking 
plashes  of  white,  mottling  the  moving  surface  be- 
fore us,  was  caused  by  the  breaking  of  uneasy 
water  into  foam.  Of  a  truth  these  white  plashes 
were  but  marguerites. 

From  the  warm,  dark  depths  at  our  feet  my- 
riads of  grasshoppers  shrilled  to  each  other  to  be 
of  good  cheer,  and  ever  and  again  we  heard  the 


•  GREEN  AS  A    JADE   CUP  *  83 

sudden  plunge  and  bustle  of  a  startled  hare,  as  it 
scuttered  away  in  a  mad  fear  at  nothing. 

*  You  count  your  toises  long  here,  Nicholas,'  I 
remarked,  for  something  to  say,  as  we  spattered 
in  and  out  of  a  shallow  pool ;  and  the  gnats,  asleep 
on  its  surface,  rose  in  a  brown  cloud,  and  hummed 
their  anger  about  our  ears. 

'  They  are  as  we  reckon  them,  monsieur.  But 
a  few  steps  further  and  we  will  get  my  horse ; 
and  after  that  there  is  no  difficulty,  for  I  know 
each  track  and  byepath  of  these  woods.* 

*  And  I  wager  that  many  a  fat  buck  has  dropped 
here  to  your  arquebus  on  moonlight  nights  such 
as  this.' 

'  One  does  not  learn  the  forest  for  nothing,  M. 
le  Chevalier ;  but  the  bucks  fell  lawfully  enough. 
My  grandfather  came  here  as  huntsman  to  Ma- 
dame Diane  ;  my  father  succeeded  him,  and  I  had 
followed  my  father ;  but  for  the  war ' 

'  And  a  smart  soldier  you  made.  I  remember 
that  when  I  cut  you  down  from  a  nasty  position  I 
had  not  time  then  to  hear  how  you  came  in  such 
plight.     How  was  it?     Tell  me  the  truth.' 

'  I  have  almost  forgotten  how  to  do  so.  I  will  try, 
however,  and  make  it  short.  When  M.  le  Marquis 
bore  you  off  after  the  duel  and  the  escape  of  the 
prisoners,  the  Captain  de  Gomeron  turned  on  me, 
and,  damning  me  from  head  to  toe,  swore  he 
would  flay  me  to  ribbons.  Feeling  sure  he  would 
do  so,  and  careless  of  the  consequences,  I  an- 
swered back — with  the  result  you  know.  Marked 
as  I  was,  it  was  useless  to  seek  employment  any- 


84  THE  CHEVALIER    D'AURIAC 

where,  and  then  I  became  what  I  am,  and  will 
end  on  the  wheel.' 

*I  don't  think  so/  I  said ;  but  he  interrupted, 

*  At  any  rate  not  before  I  have  paid  my  debt, 
and  the  bill  presses.' 

I  had  purposely  worked  up  to  this. 

*  See  here,  sergeant,'  I  said,  '  no  nonsense. 
Brush  off  that  bee  you  have  on  your  head.  You 
are  here  to-day  to  attend  to  my  business,  not  your 
own.  You  say  you  are  sick  of  your  present  life. 
Well,  I  have  means  to  give  you  another  chance, 
and  I  will  do  so ;  but  I  repeat  again  ''  no  non- 
sense."    You  understand  ?  ' 

He  stood  silently  for  a  moment,  looking  this 
way  and  that.  We  were  within  a  yard  or  so  of 
the  forest,  and  its  shadow  covered  him,  all  but  his 
face,  which  was  turned  to  me,  drawn  and  white. 
He  was  struggling  against  old  habits  of  absolute 
obedience,  and  they  won. 

*  I  understand,  M.  le  Chevalier.' 

*  Very  well,  then,  go  on,  and  remember  what  I 
have  said.* 

He  turned  and  stepped  forwards;  'This  way, 
and  mind  the  branches  overhead,'  and  we  entered 
the  forest,  my  horse  leaping  a  shallow  ditch  that 
separated  it  from  the  grass  land.  We  took  a  soft 
turf-covered  path,  overhung  by  branches,  and 
went  on  for  about  fifty  paces  before  coming  to  a 
halt,  which  we  did  in  a  small  irregular  patch  of 
trees  that  lay  in  the  full  flood  of  the  moonlight. 
In  the  darkness  beyond  I  heard  the  gentle  mur- 
mur of  a  small  spring,  and  then  the  distinct  move- 


'GREEN  AS  A    JADE   CUP'  85 

ment  of  a  heavy  body  and  the  clink  of  iron.  My 
hand  reached  to. my  halster  in  a  flash,  but  Nicho- 
las saw  the  gesture,  and  said,  *  It  is  the  horse.  A 
moment,  monsieur,'  and  lifting  up  the  curtain  of 
leaves  beside  him,  from  which,  as  he  did  so,  the 
dew  fell  in  a  soft  shower,  he  dived  into  the  thicket, 
to  reappear  again  leading  the  long  black  length 
of  his  horse.  It  struck  me  at  once  that  the  beast 
was  of  uncommon  size,  and  this,  and  the  white 
star  on  its  forehead,  brought  to  my  mind  the  re- 
collection of  de  Rone's  great  English  charger, 
Couronne. 

^Harnibleu  I  '  I  burst  out ;  *  you  seem  to  be  in 
the  lowest  water,  and  here  you  have  a  horse 
worth  a  hundred  pistoles  at  the  least ! ' 

*  Did  you  see  her  by  daylight,  monsieur,  you 
would  know  that  twice  a  hundred  pistoles  would 
not  purchase  her.  Do  you  not  know  her,  M.  le 
Chevalier?  This  is  Couronne,  M.  de  Rone's 
charger ! ' 

'Couronne  !  I  thought  so.  And  how  the  devil 
do  you  come  by  her?' 

*  Her  reins  were  in  the  wind  when  I  caught 
her ;  a  fair  prize  of  war,  and  M.  de  Rone  will 
never  need  her  more.  Since  I  got  her  she  has 
saved  me  twice,  and  if  I  can  help  it  we  shall 
never  part.' 

He  stroked  the  mare's  sleek  neck,  wet  and  glis- 
tening with  the  dew,  and,  quickly  mounting, 
swung  her  round  to  the  bit  and  laid  her  beside 
me.  It  was  not  the  time  for  talk,  and  we  drew 
out  of  the  clearing  in  single  file,  and,  after  forcing 


86  THE   CHEVALIER  D'AURIAC 

our  way  through  the  wet  and  shining  leaves 
around  us,  found  a  bridle  path.  ^  Along  this  my 
guide  went  at  a  trot.  On  either  side  of  us  the 
silent  tree  trunks  stretched  to  an  infinite  distance 
in  gloomy  colonnades.  Overhead,  the  boughs 
swayed  and  shook  sadly ;  below,  the  dry  leaves 
hissed  and  crackled.  Once,  when  we  had  slack- 
ened pace  for  a  moment,  the  sullen  groaning  of 
an  old  and  very  savage  boar  came  to  us,  and  we 
heard  him  grinding  his  tusks  in  his  lair  of  juniper. 
At  another  time  we  surprised  a  number  of  deer 
in  an  open  glade,  and,  startled  by  our  sudden  ap- 
pearance, they  dashed  off  with  a  wild  rush  into 
the  forest,  and  then  all  was  still.  Beyond  the 
glade  the  roadway  widened,  so  that  two  might 
keep  abreast,  and  down  this  we  went  at  a  gallop, 
to  find  ourselves  once  more  in  the  endless  aisles 
of  the  forest,  passing  through  a  ghostly  light  that 
barely  enabled  the  horses  to  pick  their  way  in 
and  out  amongst  the  huge  moss-grown  trees 
standing  in  measureless  numbers  around  us,  and 
where  each  pace  took  them  fetlock-deep  into  the 
carpet  of  wet  and  withered  leaves.  Amidst  the 
creaking  of  the  boughs  overhead,  and  the  churn 
of  the  leaves  at  our  feet,  we  rode  on,  nose  to  tail, 
Nicholas  leading  the  way  with  unerring  certainty. 
What  his  thoughts  were,  I  knew  not;  but  as  I 
looked  at  the  square  outlines  of  the  figure  before 
me  I  could  not  but  feel  pity  for  this  man,  reduced 
to  such  a  condition.  True,  the  life  of  a  common 
soldier  was  not  such  as  to  make  a  man  squeamish 
about  many  things,  but  the  ex-sergeant  had  always 


*  GREEN  AS  A    JADE   CUP '  8/ 

struck  me  as  being  a  man  of  a  different  stamp  to 
the  generality  of  his  fellows,  and  it  was  a  thou- 
sand pities  to  see  him  forced  to  be  a  rogue;  de 
Gomeron  had  truly  much  to  answer  for.  But  if 
I  could  I  would  mend  this  matter. 

I  had  done  too  little  good  in  the  world  to  ne- 
glect the  opportunity  that  seemed  to  present  itself 
to  me,  so  as  we  went  on  I  weaved  a  little  plan  to 
give  the  man  another  start  in  life.  I  had  already 
a  rough  idea  when  I  parted  with  those  gold  pieces 
to  Marie,  but  pulled  all  the  threads  together  as 
we  rode  along,  fully  resolving  to  give  my  plan 
effect  as  soon  as  the  business  I  had  in  hand  was 
done.  And  of  this  business  I  could  not  hope 
much.  We  were  going  straight  into  the  lion's 
mouth,  as  it  were,  for,  whether  de  Gomeron  held 
the  King's  commission  or  not,  he  had  twenty 
lances  at  his  back  at  Anet ;  and  who  on  earth 
would  question  him  if  a  crop-eared  thief  and  his 
companion  were  slain.  Besides,  even  if  we  were 
not  discovered,  I  could  see  no  way  of  laying  hold 
of  the  tail  of  the  conspiracy  by  floundering 
through  a  measureless  forest  at  night,  and  finally 
skulking  round  the  castle  like  a  homeless  cat.  I 
half  began  to  repent  me  of  the  whole  affair,  and 
to  wish  that  I  had  tossed  the  venture  up  and 
down  a  trifle  more  in  my  mind  before  I  embarked 
upon  it.  At  the  worst,  however,  perhaps  it  meant 
nothing  more  than  a  night  in  the  forest,  and,  the 
next  day,  a  tired  horse  and  man.  On  the  other 
hand,  there  was,  or  rather  is,  such  a  thing  as  luck 
in  the  world,  and  did  I  make  a  discovery  of  any 


88  THE   CHEVALIER  D'AURIAC 

consequence  my  hand  would  be  much  stronger. 
Perchance,  indeed,  I  might  be  assured  of  success, 
and  then — other  things  might  happen.  Whilst  I 
was  thus  ruminating,  Nicholas  suddenly  pulled 
up,  and  held  out  a  warning  hand. 
'  What  is  it?'  I  asked  in  a  low  tone. 

*  Hist ! '  he  said,  and  then  in  a  rapid  whisper, 

*  another  fifty  yards  and  we  come  to  the  open. 
Anet  lies  before  us,  and  the  rest  of  the  way  must 
be  done  on  foot.* 

'  And  the  horses  ? ' 

*  Fasten  them  here.  You  have  a  picketing 
rope  ?  * 

'  Yes — round  the  neck  of  the  horse.' 
'  Good  ;  I  had  not  noticed  it  before,  and  was 
half  afraid  you  had  none,  monsieur.* 

The  horses  were  soon  securely  fastened,  and, 
when  this  was  done,  Nicholas  spoke  low  and 
earnestly  :  *  Should  we  be  discovered,  monsieur, 
there  is  no  use  making  a  standing  fight.  The 
odds  are  too  many.  When  we  come  to  the  open 
I  will  show  you  a  withered  oak.  This  is  exactly 
opposite  where  the  horses  are — in  this  direction. 
If  we  are  pursued,  make  for  the  forest,  and  lie 
down.  The  chances  are  they  will  pass  us  by. 
Then  to  the  horses  and  follow  me.  If  I  go  down 
— ride  northwards  for  your  life.' 

*  How  the  devil  am  I  to  find  my  way  through 
the  trees  ? ' 

Nicholas  shrugged  his  shoulders  as  if  to  say 

*  That  was  my  affair.' 

We  had  gone  too  far  to  go  back,  however,  and 


'  GREEN  AS  A    JADE   CUP '  89 

placing  my  pistols  in  my  belt,  and  loosening  my 
sword  in  its  sheath,  I  followed  Nicholas  with 
cautious  footsteps.  As  he  said,  in  about  fifty 
yards  we  came  to  the  open,  and  halted  close  to 
a  huge  oak,  bald  of  all  leaves,  with  its  gnarled 
trunk  riven  and  scarred  by  lightning.  Before  us 
a  level  stretch  of  turf  sloped  gently  down  towards 
what  was  once  an  ornamental  lake,  but  now  over- 
grown with  the  rankest  weeds.  In  the  centre  of 
the  lake  was  a  small  island,  on  which  was  set  a 
summerhouse,  fashioned  like  a  Moorish  kiosque, 
and  beyond  this  arose,  huge  and  square,  the 
enormous  fagade  of  the  chateau.  It  was  in  dark- 
ness except  for  an  oriel  window  above  a  long  ter- 
race on  the  east  wing,  which  was  bright  with 
light,  and  in  the  courtyard  below  there  was  evi- 
dently a  fire.  Men  were  singing  around  it,  and 
a  lilting  chorus  came  to  our  ears. 

Nicholas  pointed  to  the  window,  then  looked  at 
the  priming  of  his  wheel  lock  pistol  and  whis- 
pered hoarsely,  '  We  must  keep  in  the  shadow, 
monsieur.  Stay — this  is  the  tree ;  you  cannot 
mistake  it,  and  now  come  on.  Be  careful 
not  to  trip  or  stumble,  and,  above  all,  do  not 
cough.* 

No  worse  warning  than  the  latter  could  have 
been  given  to  me,  and  I  all  but  choked  myself  in 
my  efforts  to  restrain  an  almost  uncontrollable 
desire  either  to  sneeze  or  cough.  Luckily,  I 
managed  to  hold  myself  in.  Inch  by  inch  we 
crept  onwards,  keeping  well  in  the  shadow,  and 
edging  our  way  round  the  frills  of  the  forest.     I 


go  THE   CHEVALIER  D'AURIAC 

could  hear  Nicholas  breathing  hard,  and  from 
time  to  time  he  stopped  to  rest ;  but  I  was  a  glad 
man  to  find  I  was  not  winded,  and  that  therefore 
I  must  be  truly  as  strong  again  as  ever  I  was. 
At  last,  by  dint  of  creeping,  crawling,  and  wrig- 
gling along,  we  worked  our  way  to  within  twenty 
paces  of  the  terrace,  above  which  the  stained 
glass  of  the  oriel  window  glowed  with  light. 
Here  we  came  to  a  stop  and  watched.  Some- 
times we  saw  a  shadow  moving  backwards  and 
forwards  in  the  light  of  the  window,  then  the 
shadow  was  joined  by  another,  and  both  stopped, 
as  if  the  two  men  to  whom  they  belonged  were 
in  earnest  converse.  The  merriment  from  the 
courtyard  was  unceasing,  and  whatever  may  have 
been  the  dark  plots  weaving  upstairs,  below  there 
was  nothing  but  the  can  and  the  catch. 

*  We  must  get  to  the  window,'  I  whispered  with 
an  inquiring  look. 

*  By  the  terrace,'  said  Nicholas  in  answer,  and 
as  he  spoke  there  came  to  us  the  faint  but  distinct 
sound  of  a  horn,  apparently  from  the  very  depths 
of  the  forest,  and  the  notes  roused  a  brace  of 
hounds  in  the  courtyard,  who  bayed  into  the 
night.  Nicholas  gripped  my  arm,  and  I  turned 
to  him  in  surprise.  His  face  was  pale,  he  was 
shaking  all  over  like  an  aspen,  and  his  black  eyes 
were  dilated  with  fear. 

'  Did  you  hear  that,  monsieur?'  he  said  thickly. 

*  Diable  I  What  ?  I  hear  three  different  things 
— dogs,  men,  and  someone  blowing  a  horn.' 

*  Then  j^ou  did  hear  it — the  horn?  ' 


'GREEN  AS  A    JADE  CUP'  9 1 

*  Yes.  What  of  it  ?  No  doubt  a  post  on  its 
way  to  Anet/ 

*  No  post  ever  rang  that  blast,  monsieur.  That 
is  the  Wild  Huntsman,  and  the  blast  means 
death/ 

As  he  spoke  it  came  again,  wild  and  shrill  with 
an  eerie  flourish,  the  like  of  which  I  had  never 
heard  before.  The  dogs  seemed  to  go  mad  with 
the  sound,  there  was  a  hubbub  in  the  courtyard, 
and  someone  in  the  chamber  above  the  terrace 
threw  open  the  sash  and  peered  out  into  the 
night.  I  thought  at  first  it  was  de  Gomeron ; 
but  the  voice  was  not  his,  for,  after  looking  for  a 
moment,  he  gave  a  quick  order  to  the  men  below 
and  stepped  in  again.  As  for  Nicholas,  he  seemed 
beside  himself,  and  I  had  to  hold  him  by  main 
force  by  my  side,  or  he  would  have  broken  and 
fled. 

'  Diable  !  '  I  said,  '  sit  still,  fool — see,  there  are 
a  couple  of  horsemen  gone  in  search  of  your  Wild 
Huntsman,  who  has  been  so  nearly  spoiling  our 
soup.     They  will  occupy  him  at  any  rate — sit  still.* 

The  men  rode  by  us  slowly,  one  of  them  carry- 
ing a  torch,  and,  turning  to  the  right,  trotted  off 
into  the  forest,  cursing  the  orders  they  had  re- 
ceived to  go  forth  after  the  horn-winder.  As  they 
passed,  I  began  to  breathe  more  freely,  for  had 
they  gone  to  the  left  it  was  an  even  chance  that 
they  would  have  discovered  our  horses,  owing  to 
one  of  the  beasts  neighing,  a  danger  always  to  be 
guarded  against  in  an  ambuscade.  In  a  minute 
or  so  Nicholas,  too,  began  to  get  more  composed, 


92  THE   CHEVALIER  D'AURIAC 

and  seeing  this  I  determined  to  prick  him  into 
anger,  for  then  he  would  fear  nothing. 

'  Pull  up,  man,'  I  said ;  '  your  ears  lie  beyond 
that  pane  of  glass.    Do  you  not  want  them  back?  * 

He  put  his  hand  up  to  the  side  of  his  head  with 
a  muttered  curse,  to  which  de  Gomeron*s  name 
was  linked,  and  I  saw  that  he  was  better. 

*  Now,'  I  whispered,  '  for  the  window.' 

*  We  must  get  to  the  terrace,'  he  answered. 
*  From  there  it  might  be  done.'  And  with  a  hur- 
ried look  behind  him,  at  which  I  began  to  laugh 
in  a  low  tone  of  mockery,  he  crawled  forward 
rapidly.  I  followed  with  equal  speed  and  caution, 
and  in  a  half  minute  we  had  gained  the  shadow 
of  the  terrace,  and,  working  along  its  ivy-covered 
wall,  got  to  the  main  building.  Here  we  cast 
about  for  some  means  to  get  up.  It  was  not  pos- 
sible to  do  this  by  holding  on  to  the  ivy,  as  if  it 
came  away  there  would  be  a  fall  and  all  our  fat 
would  be  in  the  fire.  The  ascent  had  to  be  made 
noiselessly,  and,  as  I  looked  at  the  high  wall  before 
us,  I  began  to  think  it  was  impossible.  Running 
my  eye  on  the  lichen-grey  face  of  the  main  build- 
ing, however,  I  noticed  something  that  looked 
like  a  series  of  huge  monograms,  with  a  crescent 
above  each,  cut  in  high  relief  on  the  stones,  be- 
ginning about  ten  feet  from  the  ground. 

*  We  might  get  up  that  way,'  I  whispered. 

Nicholas  nodded,  with  a  pale  face.  In  his  ex- 
citement he  had  forgotten  the  Wild  Huntsman, 
much  to  my  satisfaction. 

*  Bend  then,  and  I  will  ascend  from  your  back.' 


'GREEN  AS  A    JADE   CUP'  93 

He  leaned  forwards  against  the  wall,  and  climb- 
ing on  to  his  shoulders,  I  found  that  I  might  pos- 
sibly raise  myself  by  the  monograms,  which  I 
discovered  to  be  the  letters  H.  D.  interlaced  in 
one  another,  the  initials  of  the  second  Henry 
and  Diane  de  Poitiers ;  and  the  crescent  was,  as 
is  well-known,  Madame  Diane's  crest.  Taking  a 
long  breath,  I  lifted  myself  slowly — there  was  but 
an  inch  or  so  to  hold  on  to — and  at  last  found  a 
crevice  in  which  I  could  just  put  the  point  of 
my  boot.  This  was  enough  for  me  to  change  my 
hold  to  the  next  higher  monogram,  and  finally  I 
came  to  a  level  with  the  parapet  of  the  terrace. 
Here  there  was  a  difficulty.  Every  time  I 
stretched  my  hand  out  to  grasp  the  parapet  I 
found  that  I  could  not  reach  over,  and  that  my 
fingers  slipped  off  from  the  slime  and  moss  on  the 
stones.  Three  times  I  made  the  attempt,  and 
swung  back  three  times,  until  I  began  to  feel  that 
the  effort  was  beyond  me.  There  was,  however, 
one  chance,  and  quietly  thrusting  my  boot  for- 
ward, I  began  to  feel  amidst  the  ivy  for  a  possible 
foothold,  and,  to  my  delight,  found  it  rest  at  once 
on  a  small  projecting  ledge  that  ran  round  the 
terrace.  The  remainder  of  my  task  was  easy,  and 
the  next  moment  I  found  myself  lying  flat  on  my 
face  beneath  the  oriel  window. 

Here  I  paused  to  recover  myself,  peering  down 
at  Nicholas,  who  was  making  an  attempt  to  raise 
himself  by  his  hands  to  reach  the  monograms  and 
climb  to  me.  '  Steady/  I  whispered,  '  and  catch 
this.*     Rapidly  unwinding  a  silken  sash  I  wore 


94  THE   CHEVALIER  D'AURIAC 

round  my  waist,  in  the  fashion  I  had  learned 
when  serving  in  Spain,  1  dropped  one  end  towards 
him,  and  after  an  effort  or  two  he  managed  to 
seize  it.  Then  I  looped  a  fold  of  the  silk  round  a 
buttress  of  the  parapet,  and,  holding  on  to  the 
other  end,  told  Nicholas  to  climb,  and  as  the  sash 
tightened  suddenly,  I  cast  up  a  prayer  that  it 
might  not  break.  It  was,  however,  of  Eastern 
make,  and  one  may  have  hung  a  bombard  to  it 
with  safety.  I  heard  Nicholas  breathing  hard, 
and  once  or  twice  the  ivy  rustled  more  than  it 
ought  to  have,  but  at  last  his  head  appeared  over 
the  parapet  and  he  too  was  beside  me.  A  mo- 
ment after  we  saw  the  flash  of  a  torch  in  the  fo- 
rest and  heard  the  voices  of  the  men  who  had 
gone  forth  returning,  and  then  three  instead  of 
two  horsemen  appeared,  riding  towards  the  main 
entrance. 

'  There,  Nicholas,  is  your  Wild  Huntsman. 
Are  you  satisfied  now  ?  ' 

And  he  hung  his  head  like  a  great  dog  that 
has  been  detected  in  something  wrong. 

*  Now  for  the  window,'  I  said.  *  I  will  rise 
slowly  and  find  out  what  I  can.  You  keep  your 
pistol  ready  and  your  eyes  open.  Do  not  rise, 
and  remember  my  orders.' 

'  There  is  a  broken  pane  to  the  left ;  it  is  half- 
hidden  by  the  curtain.  You  can  hear  and  see 
from  there.* 

As  he  said  this  I  rose  softly  to  my  feet,  and 
finding  the  broken  pane  without  any  difficulty, 
peered  in. 


*  GREEN  AS  A    JADE   CUP'  95 

The  room  was  bright  with  the  light  of  candles, 
and  at  a  table  covered  with  papers  were  seated 
two  men,  whilst  a  third  was  standing  and  point- 
ing with  his  fingers  at  a  scroll.  In  the  man  with 
his  back  to  me  I  had  no  difficulty  in  recognising 
de  Gomeron.  The  one  looking  towards  me  was 
assuredly  Biron,  for  his  was  a  face  that  once  seen 
could  never  be  forgotten.  As  for  the  man  who 
was  standing  beside  him,  I  knew  him  not,  though 
subsequently — but  1  anticipate. 

Biron  was  evidently  in  a  high  state  of  excite- 
ment. He  was  biting  at  the  end  of  his  dark  mou- 
stache, and  the  fingers  of  his  hand  were  playing 
nervously  with  the  star  on  his  breast,  whilst  his 
shifty,  treacherous  eyes  were  turning  now  on  de 
Gomeron,  now  on  the  figure  standing  at  his  elbow. 
He  seemed  to  be  hesitating,  and  I  heard  de  Go- 
meron say  : 

*  This  is  my  price — not  money,  not  land,  not  a 
title,  but  only  a  few  words.  You  have  each  one, 
my  lord,  your  share  of  the  spoils,  set  down  in 
writing.  I  do  not  want  so  much  even.  All  I  ask 
is  your  word  of  honour  to  favour  my  suit  with 
the  King.  For  me  the  word  of  Biron  is  enough, 
and  I  know  his  Majesty  can  refuse  you  nothing.' 

'  My  God !  *  exclaimed  Biron,  and  writhed  in 
his  chair. 

'  The  Marshal  might  give  me  the  promise  I 
seek,  Lafin,'  and  de  Gomeron  turned  to  the  man 
who  was  standing  at  Biron's  elbow.  *  The  word 
will  give  me  a  wife — not  much  of  a  reward.' 

*  And  the  lands  of  Bidache  and  Pelouse,  eh?* 


96  THE   CHEVALIER  D'AURIAC 

I  almost  fell  forwards  in  my  eagerness  to  hear, 
and  only  checked  myself  in  time. 

'  Exactly,'  sneered  de  Gomeron.  '  Do  you  think 
I  have  risked  my  life  for  the  good  of  my  health  ? 
See  here,  Chevalier,'  and  he  bent  forward  and 
whispered  a  word  or  so  that  made  the  other  pale, 
and  then  de  Gomeron  leaned  back  in  his  chair 
and  smiled.  Biron  did  not  apparently  see  or 
hear.  His  forehead  was  resting  on  his  clasped 
hand,  and  he  seemed  to  be  revolving  the  hazard 
of  some  great  step.  As  for  me,  1  thought  I 
caught  the  words,  '  your  instant  help,'  followed 
by  *  lances  '  and  *  power,'  and  guessed — I  was  not 
wrong — that  the  captain  had  forced  Lafin's  hand. 

'  My  dear  de  Gomeron,'  he  said,  *  the  Marshal 
is  willing  enough,  but  you  know  the  common  talk, 
that  the  King  has  other  views  for  Madame,  and 
that  M.  d'Ayen '     But  Biron  interposed  : 

'  M.  de  Gomeron,  you  ask  too  much.  Madame 
de  la  Bidache  is  of  the  first  nobility.  Tremouille 
was  my  friend.     It  is  too  much.' 

*  And  I  give  Monseigneur  a  crown.* 

'  Peste  !  My  lord,  after  all  M.  de  Gomeron  has 
deserved  his  price,  and  a  good  sword  and  a  bet- 
ter head  must  not  be  thrown  away.  Remember, 
monseigneur,  an  open  hand  makes  faithful  hearts,' 
said  Lafin. 

*  But  the  King  would  never  consent,'  began  Bi- 
ron. 

'  Give  me  your  word  to  help  me,  monseigneur. 
I  will  do  the  rest  for  myself.' 

*  Give  it,  my  lord.* 


'  GREEN  AS  A    JADE   CUP'  97 

Biron  hesitated  for  a  moment,  and  then  sud- 
denly threw  up  his  hands.  '  Very  well,  let  it  be 
as  you  wish.     I  promise,  M.  de  Gomeron.* 

*  Enough,  my  lord  ;  I  thank  you.  The  Cheva- 
lier Lafin  has  laid  before  you  in  detail  all  our 
resources.  Let  me  now  show  you  this.*  He 
unrolled  a  parchment  that  was  before  him,  and 
handed  it  to  the  Marshal.  '  Here,*  he  added,  '  are 
the  signatures  of  all.  It  only  needs  that  of  Biron  ; 
now  sign.' 

I  could  hear  the  beating  of  my  heart  in  the 
silence  that  followed,  and  then  Biron  said  hoarsely, 
*  No !  no  !  I  will  never  put  my  name  to  paper.* 

*  Morbleu  I  Marshal,*  burst  out  Lafin,  *  This  is  no 
time  for  nibbling  at  a  cherry.  Tremouille  and 
Epernon  have  signed.  Put  your  seal  to  the  scroll, 
and  the  day  it  reaches  M.  de  Savoye,  thirty  thou- 
sand troops  are  across  the  frontier,  and  you  will 
change  the  cabbage  gardens  of  Biron  for  the  coro- 
net of  Burgundy  and  La  Breese.* 

*  And  see  your  head  on  a  crown  piece,  Marshal,' 
added  de  Gomeron. 

*  But  we  have  not  heard,  Lafin — *  began  the 
Marshal. 

*  We  will  hear  to-night,  monseigneur — that  horn 
meant  news,  and  Zamet  never  fails.  Curse  the 
low-bred  Italian  !  Pardieu  !  he  is  here,*  and  as  he 
spoke,  I  heard  what  seemed  to  be  three  distinct 
knocks  at  a  carved  door,  and,  Lafin  opening  it,  a 
man  booted  and  spurred  entered  the  room.  He 
was  splashed  with  mud  as  one  who  had  ridden 
fast  and  far. 


98  THE   CHEVALIER  D'AURIAC 

'  Zamet !  '  exclaimed  the  Marshal  and  de  Go- 
meron,  both  rising,  and  the  face  of  the  former  was 
pale  as  death. 

'  Good  evening,  gentlemen  !  Maledetto  !  But  I 
have  had  a  devil  of  a  ride,  and  some  fool  kept 
fv^inding  a  will-o*-the-wisp  kind  of  horn  that  led 
me  a  fine  dance.     It  was  lucky  I  met  your  men.' 

*  Then  that  blast  we  heard  was  not  yours  ?' 

*  Corpo  di  Bacco  !     No,  Chevalier.' 

I  was  a  glad  man  to  think  that  Nicholas,  who 
was  crouching  at  my  feet,  did  not  hear  this,  or 
there  might  have  been  a  catastrophe,  but  that  in- 
deed was  not  long  delayed. 

'  Well,  friends,  you  all  seem  to  have  pale  faces 
— would  you  not  like  to  hear  the  news?  I  have 
ridden  post  to  tell  you.' 

There  was  no  answer,  and  the  Italian  conti- 
nued :  '  I  suppose  I  must  give  it,  make  your  minds 
easy.  It  is  all  over — she  died  last  night.  We  are 
free  at  any  rate  from  the  enmity  of  Gabrielle — she 
knew  too  much.' 

*  Did  it  hurt  her  ?  '  asked  Biron  nervously. 

*  I  don't  know,'  answered  Zamet  brutally,  '  I 
have  never  tasted  the  Borgia  citron  myself.' 

'  Mon  Dieu  !  '  exclaimed  the  Marshal,  springing 
to  his  feet,  '  this  is  too  terrible,'  and  he  began  to 
pace  up  and  down,  whilst  the  other  three  re- 
mained in  whispered  converse,  their  eyes  now 
and  again  turning  to  Biron,  who  walked  the  room 
like  a  caged  beast.  Nicholas  had  risen  slowly  to 
his  feet  despite  my  orders,  and  was  looking  over 
my  shoulders  with  a  white  face  and  blazing  eyes. 


'  GREEN  AS  A    JADE   CUP'  99 

I  dared  not  tell  him  to  go  back  ;  but,  with  a  warn- 
ing look  at  him,  strained  my  ears  to  catch  what  was 
being  said,  but  could  hear  nothing,  until  at  length 
Zamet  raised  his  voice  :  '  Have  done  with  it.  Mar- 
shal, and  sign.     After  all,   Madame  de  Beaufort 

was   no   more   than  a  '  and  he   used  a  foul 

word.  *  The  King  is  prostrate  now ;  but  in  a 
week  Gabrielle  will  be  forgotten,  and  then  any- 
thing might  happen.  He  is  beginning  to  recover. 
He  already  writes  verses  on  the  lost  one,'  he  went 
on  with  a  grin,  '  charmante  Gabrielle — diavolo  I 
but  you  should  have  seen  her  as  she  lay  dead — 
she  was  green  as  a  jade  cup.' 

*  Be  still,  dog,'  and  Biron  turned  fiercely  on 
him.  The  Italian  stepped  back,  his  hand  on  his 
dagger ;  but  in  a  moment  he  recovered  himself. 
His  black  eyebrows  lifted,  and  his  upper  lip  drew 
back  over  his  teeth  in  a  sneer. 

*  I  did  not  know  Monseigneur  would  be  so  af- 
fected ;  but  time  presses  and  we  need  the  name 
of  Biron  to  that  scroll.  Hand  the  Marshal  the 
pen,  Lafin.' 

*  It  is  here,'  and  de  Gomeron,  dipping  a  pen  in 
a  silver  ink-stand,  held  it  out  in  his  hand. 

Biron  made  a  half  step  forward  to  take  it,  when 
a  thing  happened.  I  felt  myself  suddenly  thrust 
aside,  and  there  was  a  blinding  flash,  a  loud  re- 
port, and  a  shout  from  Nicholas,  *  Missed,  by 
God!' 

There  was  absolutely  no  time  to  do  anything 
but  make  for  the  horses.  Nicholas  had  fired  at 
de  Gomeron  in  his  mad  thirst  for  revenge,  and 


lOO  THE   CHEVALIER  D'AURIAC 

had  practically  given  our  lives  away.  In  the  up- 
roar and  din  that  followed  we  slid  down  the  sash 
like  apes,  and  dashed  towards  the  horses.  Some 
one  shouted  *  Traitor — traitor/  and  let  fly  at  us 
twice  as  we  ran  across  the  open  space.  From  the 
courtyard  we  could  hear  the  hurry  and  bustle  of 
men  suddenly  aroused,  and  as  we  reached  the  oak 
we  heard  the  bay  of  the  bloodhounds,  and  the 
thunder  of  hoofs  in  pursuit. 


■»   ■>      >    1  -I      -I 


CHAPTER  VII 

POOR    NICHOLAS! 

From  the  oak  to  the  spot  where  our  horses  were 
tethered  was  close  upon  fifty  paces,  and  never,  I 
think,  was  ground  covered  at  a  speedier  rate  by 
men  running  for  their  lives.  I  was  bursting  with 
anger,  and  know  not  what  restrained  me  from 
pistolling  Nicholas,  so  furious  was  I  at  the  blind 
folly  of  the  man.  As  we  reached  the  horses,  we 
could  hear  the  dogs  splashing  through  the  spill- 
water  at  the  edge  of  the  lake,  and  someone  fired 
a  third  shot  at  us  from  horseback — a  shot  in  the 
dark  which  whistled  through  the  branches  over- 
head. 

*  Quick  !  quick,  monsieur !  *  gasped  Nicholas, 
and  with  a  turn  of  his  hand  he  freed  Couronne, 
and  sprang  to  her  back — the  great  mare  standing 
steady  as  a  rock. 

*  Quick!'  he  called  out  again  more  loudly,  and 
I  made  a  vain  effort  to  loosen  my  beast,  which, 
startled  by  the  shots,  the  baying  of  the  dogs,  and 
our  haste  and  hurry,  plunged  and  kicked  as 
though  it  were  demented. 

'  Damn  you !  *  I  hissed,  half  at  the  horse,  half  at 
the  crop-eared  idiot  who  had  caused  this  disaster, 

lOI  A 


i02  TIi$^Cl::EV4LIER  D'AURIAC 

and,  managing  somehow  to  scramble  to  the  saddle, 
cut  the  halter  with  a  draw  of  my  dagger.  At  this 
moment  the  dogs  reached  us;  a  dark  object 
sprang  up  from  the  ground,  and,  fastening  on  the 
jaws  of  my  horse,  brought  him  to  his  knees,  whilst 
the  other  beast  flew  at  my  companion.  Nicholas* 
pistol  rang  out  to  no  purpose,  the  report  was 
echoed  by  a  chorus  of  shouts  from  the  troopers  fol- 
lowing us,  and  Couronne,  swinging  round,  lashed 
out  with  her  heels  at  the  hound  that  was  baying 
her.  Leaning  forward  with  one  arm  half  round 
the  neck  of  my  snorting  horse,  I  thrust  twice  at 
the  hound  hanging  to  him,  the  first  time  sliding  off 
his  metal  collar,  but  at  the  second  blow  my  blade 
slipped  to  the  hilt  into  something  soft,  it  seemed 
of  its  own  accord,  and  as  the  dead  dog  fell  sud- 
denly back,  bearing  my  poniard  with  it,  my  freed 
horse  rose  to  its  feet,  and  mad  with  pain  dashed 
forwards  into  the  teeth  of  our  pursuers.  I  let  him 
go — one  might  as  well  have  tried  to  stop  the  rush 
of  a  mad  bull.  By  a  miracle  I  escaped  being  torn 
off  by  the  overhanging  branches,  and  as  we  raced 
into  the  open,  Nicholas  at  my  heels  shouting  '  To 
the  north !  to  the  north  !  *  we  were  not  twenty 
paces  away  from  the  troopers.  My  frantic  horse 
went  straight  at  them,  and,  driving  my  spurs 
home,  I  made  him  leap  at  the  foremost  horseman. 
His  animal  swerved  off — a  piece  of  good  luck  for 
both  of  us.  Then  my  pistol  missed  fire,  and  I 
was  in  the  midst  of  them.  The  quarters  were  so 
close,  and  the  confusion  so  great,  that  at  first  only 
those  on  the  outside  could  use  their  weapons,  and 


POOR  NICHOLAS!  103 

in  their  hurry  to  do  so  some  of  these  perhaps 
struck  at  each  other.  One  man,  however,  short- 
ened his  sword,  and  would  have  run  me  through 
had  I  not  luckily  seen  the  flash  of  the  blade  and 
given  him  the  heavy  iron-bound  butt  of  my  pistol 
on  the  forehead.  He  was  probably  much  hurt, 
but  although  he  lurched  backwards  senseless,  so 
close  was  the  press  that  he  was  held  in  his  saddle. 
The  butt  of  the  pistol  was  broken  off  by  the  blow, 
and  for  the  moment  I  was  disarmed.  I  dared  not 
call  out  to  Nicholas  for  fear  of  being  recognised ; 
but  at  this  juncture  horse  and  man  on  my  right 
seemed  to  be  dashed  to  earth,  and  Nicholas  was  at 
my  elbow,  striking  right  and  left  with  the  heavy 
hilt  of  his  sword.  Profiting  by  the  relief,  I  drew 
out  my  second  pistol  and  shot  the  man  before  me. 
Pressing  against  his  mount  with  my  brave  little 
nag,  who  was  now  in  hand  again,  I  got  clear,  and, 
with  a  shout  to  Nicholas  to  follow,  dashed  off  to- 
wards the  north.  It  was  at  this  moment  that  three 
other  riders  galloped  up,  and  I  heard  de  Gomeron 
call  out,  '  Sangdieu  !  They  are  off.  After  them, 
dogs,*  and  clapping  spurs  to  his  beast  he  rode 
after  us.  We  had,  however,  gained  a  full  twenty 
yards'  start,  which  was  more  than  trebled  by  the 
few  seconds*  delay  before  the  troopers  could  re- 
cover themselves  and  follow.  My  horse  was 
going  at  racing  pace  ;  but  Couronne  kept  by  his 
side  with  a  long  and  effortless  stride.  De  Gomeron 
was  at  our  heels,  and  with  a  sudden  rush  ranged 
alongside  of  Nicholas.  The  sergeant  possibly  did 
not  recognise  his  assailant,  and  managed  somehow 


I04  THE   CHEVALIER  D'AURIAC 

to  parry  the  cut  aimed  at  him,  and  the  next  mo- 
ment de  Gomeron's  horse  stumbled  and  went 
down  ;  but  the  man  himself,  who  was  a  rare  horse- 
man, fell  on  his  feet  like  a  cat.  It  was,  however,  a 
moment  more  of  respite,  and  Nicholas,  with  a  wild 
cheer,  dashed  into  the  forest,  riding  recklessly 
through  the  trees.  We  both  leaned  forward  to 
the  necks  of  our  horses,  and  as  far  as  I  was  con- 
cerned I  made  no  attempt  to  guide  my  beast,  but 
let  him  follow  Couronne,  who,  surefooted  as  a  stag, 
turned  and  twisted  amongst  the  trees  with  almost 
human  forethought.  The  single  hound  that  was 
left  strained  bravely  behind  us ;  but,  mindful 
probably  of  the  fate  that  had  overtaken  his  bro- 
ther, made  no  direct  attack.  As  we  dashed  into 
the  wood  the  troopers  attempted  to  follow;  but  it 
was  with  a  relaxed  speed,  and  every  moment  we 
were  distancing  them,  and  their  cries,  shouts,  and 
curses  became  fainter  and  more  faint.  I  began  to 
think  if  we  could  but  be  rid  of  the  sleuthhound, 
we  would  get  off  with  whole  skins.  The  beast  was, 
however,  not  to  be  shaken  off,  and,  avoiding  the 
heels  of  the  horses,  came  with  a  lop^  lopy  through 
the  leaves  alongside  my  nag,  just  out  of  reach  of 
the  point  of  my  sword,  which  I  had  managed  to 
draw.  As  he  snapped  and  growled,  my  horse, 
already  once  wounded,  and  still  smarting  with 
pain,  shied  off  from  him,  bruising  my  leg  against 
a  tree  trunk,  in  the  bark  of  which  my  spur  re- 
mained, and  all  but  unseating  me.  Another  shy 
amongst  the  trees  would  have  finished  my  busi- 
ness, for  the  pain  of  the  bruise  at  the  moment  was 


POOR  NICHOLAS!  I  OS 

exquisite;  but,  leaping  a  fallen  log,  Nicholas  burst 
through  a  juniper  bush,  and  my  horse  following 
him,  we  came  on  to  an  open  stretch  which  sloped 
down  to  the  river. 

'Ouf!  Out  of  it  at  last!'  I  gasped  out  to 
Nicholas. 

*  It's  a  mile  yet  to  the  river,  monsieur,*  he  an- 
swered, slackening  pace  slightly  to  allow  me  to 
get  alongside  of  him. 

The  dog,  however,  was  not  yet  shaken  off,  and 
kept  steadily  beside  my  horse.  In  the  bright 
moon  I  could  see  him  running  freely  and  easily  ; 
and,  much  as  I  cursed  his  presence  there,  I  could 
not  help  but  admire  the  gallant  beast.  He  seemed 
to  know  perfectly  the  danger  that  lay  in  the  long 
shining  sword,  that  thrust  out  at  him  like  a 
snake's  tongue  whenever  he  came  too  near. 

I,  however,  owed  him  one  for  the  bruise,  and  it 
was  not  a  time  to  waste  in  admiring  things.  So  I 
called  to  Nicholas. 

'  Slacken  pace  a  little  more.  I  want  to  be  rid 
of  the  dog.* 

*  We  can  kill  him  in  the  river,'  answered  the 
sergeant. 

'  Better  stop  him  here,'  and  Nicholas  obeyed. 

Seeing  us  slacken,  the  hound  tried  to  head  the 
horses.  This  was  exactly  what  I  wanted ;  and 
shortening  the  reins,  I  pulled  round  my  nag  sud- 
denly, right  upon  the  dog,  and,  stooping  low, 
gave  him  a  couple  of  inches  in  the  quarters  as  he 
attempted  to  double.  It  was  not  a  wound  that 
would  kill.     I  had  no  intention,  unless  forced  to, 


I06  THE   CHEVALIER  D'AURIAC 

of  doing  that ;  but  it  had  the  desired  effect,  and 
he  fled  back  howling  with  pain. 

'  Adieu,  monsieur  ! '  I  cried  out  after  him  with 
a  laugh,  and  joining  the  sergeant  we  cantered  on 
through  the  clearing  towards  the  river. 

The  ill-will  I  felt  towards  Nicholas  had  gone  by 
this  time.  He  had  borne  himself  like  a  brave  man, 
as  he  was ;  and,  after  all,  if  I  had  been  in  his  posi- 
tion I  would  perhaps  have  done  the  same,  and  let 
drive  at  de  Gomeron  at  sight.  My  little  nag, 
however,  at  this  time  began  to  show  signs  of  dis- 
tress, and  I  turned  my  attention  from  the  ser- 
geant to  husbanding  the  poor  beast's  strength — 
patting  him  on  his  foam-covered  neck  to  encou- 
rage him,  and  speaking  to  him  in  the  manner  that 
horses  love.  Pardieu  !  If  men  only  knew  it,  there 
are  moments  when  a  touch  of  the  hand  and  a  kind 
word  are  better  than  four-inch  spurs. 

We  came  to  a  narrow  patch  now,  and  rode 
down  this,  the  river  being  in  sight,  winding  like  a 
silver  ribbon  thrown  carelessly  down.  On  the 
opposite  bank  it  was  overhung  with  willows, 
whose  drooping  boughs  swung  low  to  the  very 
surface  of  the  water.  Here  and  there  the  stump 
of  a  felled  tree  stood  up  like  a  sentinel.  In  the 
distance,  behind  us,  we  could  hear  one  or  two  of 
the  troopers,  who  had  by  this  time  managed  to 
get  through  the  wood,  yelling  and  shouting  as 
they  urged  their  horses  towards  the  river. 
Doubtless  more  would  soon  follow,  and  I  cursed 
them  loudly  and  heartily.  Nicholas  looked 
back. 


POOR  NICHOLAS!  I07 

*  But  fifteen  yards  of  a  swim,  monsieur,  and  we 
are  safe/ 

'  Not  exactly.     See  there  ? ' 

The  sergeant  followed  my  outstretched  blade, 
and  swore  too.  Right  before  us  two  men  gal- 
loped out  of  a  strip  of  coppice  that  stretched 
to  the  water's  edge  and  cut  us  off  from  the 
stream. 

'  Sacrebleu  !  How  did  they  know  that  cut  ? 
Have  at  them,  monsieur.' 

And  we  did. 

It  had  to  be  a  matter  of  moments  only.  The 
troopers  behind  were  coming  on,  and,  if  once 
they  reached  us,  we  could  not  well  hope  to  es- 
cape again  ;  the  odds  were  too  many.  I  did  not, 
therefore,  waste  time,  but  went  straight  for  my 
man,  and,  to  do  him  justice,  he  seemed  nothing 
loath  to  meet  me.  He  cut  over  the  shoulder,  and, 
receiving  this  on  my  forte,  I  gave  him  the  point 
in  the  centre  of  his  breastplate,  making  it  ring  like 
a  bell.  Only  a  Milanese  corselet  could  have 
saved  him  as  it  did.  My  nag  went  on,  but  turned 
on  its  haunches  to  the  reins,  and  before  he 
could  well  recover  himself  I  was  at  him  again, 
and  discovered  that  he  wore  a  demi-mask  on  his 
face. 

'  Monsieur,  shall  I  prick  your  mask  off  before 
killing  you?'  I  mocked,  suiting  the  words  to  a 
thrust  that  all  but  effected  the  object,  and  ripped 
him  on  the  cheek. 

He  was  a  good  swordsman,  but  this  made  him 
beside  himself  with  passion,  and  this  frantic  state. 


I08  THE   CHEVALIER  D'AURIAC 

and  the  sound  of  his  voice  as  he  kept  cursing  me, 
told  me  that  my  opponent  was  none  other  than 
Biron  himself.  Now  came  a  serious  difficulty, 
which  I  had  to  consider  like  lightning.  Did  I  kill 
him,  and  he  was  an  infant  in  my  hands,  there 
could  be  no  hope  for  me — he  was  too  great — too 
highly  placed  for  me  to  have  any  chance  if  I  com- 
passed his  death.  Therefore,  as  I  pressed  him,  I 
called  out  loud  enough  for  him  to  hear,  '  Mar- 
shal, you  are  mad — go  back — you  are  known  to 
me.* 

He  thrust  at  me  for  answer ;  but  I  could  stand 
no  more  nonsense,  and,  getting  within  his  guard, 
struck  him  off  his  horse  with  a  blow  from  the  hilt 
of  my  sword,  and,  wasting  not  a  second  more  on 
him,  turned  to  the  assistance  of  Nicholas. 

It  was  much  needed,  for  the  sergeant's  oppo- 
nent was  none  other  than  de  Gomeron  himself, 
who  had  remounted  after  his  fall,  and,  by  cutting 
off  a  corner,  intercepted  us,  almost  with  complete 
success.  How  Nicholas  held  his  own  against 
this  finished  swordsman  for  even  so  long  a  period 
as  a  half -minute  I  am  unable  to  say.  It  was 
doubtless  due  to  the  strength  of  his  bitter  hatred, 
and  his  fury  for  revenge.  Even  as  it  was,  I  was 
too  late.  As  I  dashed  towards  him,  Nicholas 
fairly  screamed  out : 

*  Leave  him  to  me — he  is — a — ah  !  * 

He  never  finished,  for  de  Gomeron  saw  his 
chance  and  passed  his  sword  through  the  ser- 
geant's throat,  and  he  fell  limply  from  Couronne 
a  dead  man. 


POOR  NICHOLAS!  109 

Before,  however,  the  free-lance  could  recover 
himself  I  was  on  him,  and,  standing  in  my  stir- 
rups, cut  at  him  with  the  full  swing  of  my  sword. 
He  parried  like  lightning,  but  the  force  of  the 
blow  beat  down  his  guard,  and  although  my 
blade  fell  flat  upon  his  steel  cap,  he  went  down 
like  an  ox. 

Poor  Nicholas  was  gone  !  I  knew  that  thrust, 
and  once  received  there  was  nothing  for  it  but 
masses  for  the  soul.  A  half-dozen  troopers  were 
not  two  hundred  yards  away,  and  life  lay  on  the 
other  side  of  the  Eure.  I  went  straight  on,  and 
jumped  my  horse  into  the  stream.  It  was  run- 
ning high  and  deep,  and  as  I  fell  into  the  water 
with  a  splash  and  hiss  of  white  foam  around  me, 
I  heard  another  heavy  plunge  close  to  my  shoul- 
der, and,  in  the  glance  I  cast  towards  the  sound, 
saw  that  it  was  the  now  riderless  Couronne,  who 
had  followed  her  companion  of  the  night.  To 
ease  the  horse,  I  slipped  from  the  saddle,  and, 
hanging  on  to  the  pommel,  was  towed  along  by 
him  as  the  good  beast  breasted  the  stream  bravely. 
Pardieu  !  How  the  yellow  water  grumbled  and 
foamed  and  bubbled  around  us.  The  current  set 
towards  the  opposite  bank,  and  the  force  of  it 
carried  us  down,  it  seemed  in  a  moment,  fully 
fifty  yards  from  the  spot  where  we  had  plunged 
in,  to  within  a  few  feet  of  the  opposite  shore. 
Here,  however,  the  river  ran  strong  and  swiftly, 
the  bank  was  high,  and  the  horses  could  make  no 
headway,  but  kept  drifting  down.  By  this  time 
the  troopers  had  reached  the  scene  of  the  fight, 


no  THE   CHEVALIER  D'AURIAC 

and  I  could  hear  them  howling  with  anger  as 
they  gathered  around  their  fallen  leaders,  and, 
without  a  head  to  guide  them,  hesitated  what  to 
do,  each  moment  of  delay  giving  me  precious 
time,  and  bringing  me  closer  to  a  shelving  bank 
a  few  yards  to  the  left.  Not  one  of  the  troopers 
dared  the  stream,  and  they  had  apparently  emp- 
tied their  arquebuses  after  us  in  pursuit,  for  none 
fired,  although  they  called  to  each  other,  *  Shoot 
him  down — shoot  him  down  !  * 

A  couple  of  men  galloped  down  stream  a  little 
below  me,  and,  dismounting,  began  to  load  hur- 
riedly, it  being  evidently  their  intention  to  pick 
me  off  as  I  drifted  past.  For  the  moment  I  gave 
myself  up  for  lost ;  but,  determining  to  make  a  last 
effort  to  save  myself,  made  a  snatch  at  the  wil- 
lows that  overhung  the  bank  and  brushed  us  with 
their  wet  and  dripping  leaves  as  we  struggled 
underneath.  As  I  did  this,  I  loosed  my  hold  of 
the  saddle,  and  the  horses  slid  past  me,  and  I  was 
dragged  by  the  current  right  into  the  bank.  The 
willows  were  tough,  and  I  held  on  to  them  like  a 
leech,  and  the  troopers,  who  had  seen  what  I  was 
about,  began  to  laugh  at  me,  and  adjure  me  to 
hold  on  tight  as  they  would  be  ready  to  shoot  in 
a  moment.  The  fools!  They  gave  me  the  mo- 
ment's time  I  wanted,  and,  digging  my  boot  into 
the  soft  bank,  I  laid  hold  of  the  stem  of  a  willow 
and  with  an  effort  reached  the  shore.  I  rolled 
over  at  full  length,  and  then  lay  flat  on  my  face, 
whilst  the  troopers  with  many  curses  ran  forward 
a  few  feet  and  let  off  their  arquebuses,  on  the  off 


POOR  NICHOLAS!  Ill 

chance  of  bringing  me  down.  They  aimed  truly 
enough,  and  had  I  not  lain  to  earth  as  I  did,  I 
should  infallibly  have  been  killed,  for  the  bullets 
whizzed  past,  it  seemed,  but  a  few  inches  above 
me.  I  let  out  a  yell  as  if  I  was  mortally  hurt,  and 
then  rising,  ran  down  stream  behind  the  willows 
as  fast  as  my  bruised  leg  would  allow  me,  to  see 
if  I  could  not  get  back  one  or  both  the  horses. 
My  stratagem  had  the  desired  effect,  for  on  my 
cry  of  '  I  am  dead — I  am  dead,'  two  others  of  the 
men  who  had  run  up  let  off  their  pieces  where  I 
was  supposed  to  be,  and  they  all  shouted,  '  We 
have  him  ;  he  is  down.* 

'Morbleu!  Not  yet,*  I  could  hardly  refrain 
from  chuckling  to  myself,  as  I  hobbled  along  the 
bank,  and  to  my  joy  saw  them  in  a  little  bay, 
about  a  hundred  paces  from  me,  moving  slowly 
in  the  shallow  water.  One  behind  the  other,  to- 
wards the  land.  A  spur  had  been  thrown  out 
here,  evidently  with  the  object  of  protecting  the 
bank,  and  it  had  cast  the  main  stream  on  the  op- 
posite shore,  and  given  the  beasts  a  chance  of 
landing. 

I  felt  my  leg  at  each  step  I  took;  but  went 
on  at  a  round  pace  somehow,  and  came  up  to 
Couronne  just  as  she  was  stepping  out  of  the 
water.  Catching  her  by  the  bridle,  I  mounted, 
although  with  some  difficulty,  and  slipping  my 
hands  through  the  reins  of  my  own  nag,  trotted 
off  under  cover  of  the  trees,  leaving  M.  de  Go- 
meron,  who  had  doubtless  recovered  by  this  time, 
and  his  men  to  make  a  target  of  the  darkness.     I 


112  THE   CHEVALIER  D'AURIAC 

had  come  through  somehow,  but  I  was  sick  and 
sore  at  heart,  as  I  urged  Couronne  from  a  trot  to 
a  gallop,  when  I  thought  of  poor  Nicholas  lying 
dead  by  the  banks  of  the  Eure, 


CHAPTER  VIII 

MONSIEUR  DE   PREAULX 

I  KEPT  off  the  road  as  far  as  possible  to  avoid 
being  tracked.  Even  if  no  further  attempt  to  fol- 
low  me  was  made  to-night,  which  was  uncertain, 
as  de  Gomeron  was  not  the  man  to  let  the  barest 
chance  slip  through  his  fingers,  yet  there  was  no 
doubt  as  to  what  would  happen  on  the  morrow. 
I  congratulated  myself  on  having  crippled  the 
last  of  the  sleuthhounds,  as  my  gentlemen  would 
be  placed  thereby  in  a  difficulty  in  regard  to  my 
route,  and  if  they  scoured  the  country  in  twos 
and  threes,  I  felt  confident  of  being  able,  with 
Jacques*  aid,  to  give  a  good  account  of  myself 
did  we  meet,  despite  my  bruised  leg,  which  re- 
minded me  of  itself  unpleasantly. 

As  I  patted  Couronne's  neck  I  thought  of  Nicho- 
las, and  with  the  memory  of  him  the  face  of  Marie 
came  up.  I  felt  myself  in  a  measure  responsible 
for  his  death,  and  was  resolved  to  weigh  out  in 
full  to  Marie  the  payment  I  had  promised  them 
both.  It  was  a  debt  I  would  discharge  to  the  end 
of  the  measure. 

A  sense  of  relief  came  to  my  mind  with  this  re- 
solve, and,  as  Rouvres  could  not  be  far  distant,  I 
slackened  pace  to  let  the  horses  breathe  a  trifle, 
8  in 


114  THE   CHEVALIER  D'AURIAC 

and  began  to  hastily  plan  my  future  course  of 
action  on  reaching  Paris.  I  had  not  only  disco- 
vered what  was  evidently  a  deep  and  widely-spread 
plot,  but  had  also  stumbled  on  the  dreadful  secret 
of  the  death  of  the  woman  who  was  to  be  Queen 
of  France  in  name,  as  she  was  in  reality.  It  was 
certain  that  she  had  been  foully  murdered.  It 
was  certain  that  the  King's  most  trusted  captain 
and  many  of  his  greatest  nobles  were  hilt-deep  in 
treachery — so  much  I  knew.  I  had  seen  with 
mine  own  eyes,  and  heard  with  mine  own  ears, 
but  beyond  this  I  had  no  proofs — and  what  would 
my  word  weigh  against  theirs !  Besides  this 
there  was  my  own  trouble.  D'Ayen's  mocking 
warning  was  explicit  enough  when  read  with 
Palin's  confidence,  and  any  doubt  I  may  have 
had  on  that  point  was  almost  set  at  rest  by  what 
I  had  overheard.  In  short,  I  was  the  rival  of  the 
King,  and  felt  my  head  very  loose  upon  my  neck. 

What  was  I  to  do  ?  It  was  no  easy  matter  to 
decide ;  but  I  came  to  the  conclusion  that  my 
best  course  was  to  seek  out  the  all-powerful  Sully, 
tell  him  what  I  knew,  and  beg  the  help  of  that 
great  man.  I  did  not  know  him,  except  by  re- 
pute ;  but  my  case  was  strong  and  my  cause 
good.  I  would  delay  not  a  moment  about  this  on 
reaching  Paris;  but  it  was  Rouvres  I  had  to  come 
to  first,  and  many  a  league  lay  for  reflection  be- 
tween me  and  the  Louvre. 

So  I  jogged  on,  not  quite  certain  of  my  way, 
and  every  now  and  again  making  a  cast  to  find 
the  road,  for  by  riding  parallel  with  it  I  knew  I 


MONSIEUR  DE  PREAULX  1 15 

must  reach  my  destination.  Once,  however,  I 
lost  myself  for  about  an  hour,  and,  on  finding  the 
road  again,  resolved  to  keep  to  it  for  the  re- 
mainder of  my  journey,  as  the  moon  was  rapidly 
waning,  and  that  darkness  which  touches  the  edge 
of  the  morning  was  at  hand. 

At  last  I  heard  the  Lauds  chime  solemnly  out 
into  the  night,  and  in  a  few  minutes  pulled  up 
the  weary  beasts  before  the  gates  of  Rouvres. 
Here  I  found  a  difficulty  I  might  have  antici- 
pated. The  gates  were  shut,  and  the  unpleasant 
prospect  of  a  dreary  wait  of  some  hours  lay  be- 
fore me.  This  was  not  to  be  borne,  and  I  raised 
a  clamour  that  might  have  awakened  the  dead. 
It  had  the  desired  effect  of  rousing  the  watch 
at  the  gate ;  a  wicket  was  opened,  the  light  of  a 
lanthorn  flashed  through,  and  a  gruff  voice  bade 
me  begone. 

*  Open,*  I  roared,  *  open  in  the  King's  name.' 

yPardieu!  Monsieur,  the  gates  are  kept  shut  in 
the  King's  name,  and  his  Majesty  does  not  like 
his  subjects'  rest  being  disturbed,'  answered  an- 
other voice,  and  from  its  tone  and  inflection  I 
guessed  it  was  that  of  an  officer. 

*In  that  case,  monsieur,'  I  said,  Met  me  in  so 
that  we  may  both  go  to  our  beds,  and  a  thousand 
apologies  for  disturbing  you.  My  servant  is  al- 
ready at  the  Grand  Cerf,  and  one  man  cannot  take 
Rouvres.' 

'  Then  you  are  that  M.  de  Preaulx  of  the  Anjou- 
mois,  whose  lackey  Jacques  Bisson  arrived  last 
night — for  it  is  morning  now  ?  ' 


Il6  THE  CHEVALIER  D'AURIAC 

'  You  keep  good  watch,  monsieur — who  else 
should  I  be  ? '  I  said,  with  an  inward  *  thank 
heaven*  at  the  accident  that  had  discovered  to 
me  my  new  name. 

There  was  no  reply  for  a  moment,  though  I 
heard  some  one  laughing,  and  the  rays  of  the 
light  were  cast  to  the  right  and  to  the  left  of  me 
to  see  that  I  was  really  alone.  Finally  orders 
were  given  for  my  admission.  The  gates  went 
open  with  a  creaking,  and  I  was  within  Rouvres. 

As  I  rode  in  I  stopped  to  thank  the  officer  for 
his  courtesy,  and  the  light  being  very  clear,  he 
observed  my  condition,  and  exclaimed,  '  Diable  I 
But  you  have  ridden  far,  monsieur,  and  with  a 
led  horse  too !  * 

*  I  ride  in  the  King's  name,  monsieur,'  I  replied 
a  little  coldly,  and,  thanking  him  once  more,  was 
seized  with  an  inspiration,  and  begged  the  favour 
of  his  company  at  dinner  at  the  Grand  Cerf, 

'  With  pleasure,  monsieur.  Permit  me  to  intro- 
duce myself.  I  am  the  Chevalier  d'Aubusson, 
lieutenant  of  M.  de  Sancy's  company  of  ordon- 
nance.' 

I  raised  my  hat  in  response  ;  *  His  Majesty  has 
no  braver  word  than  M.  de  Sancy.  At  twelve 
then,  monsieur,  I  shall  have  the  pleasure  of  meet- 
ing you  again  ;  good  night,  or  rather  good  morn- 
ing!' 

'  Adieu ! '  he  answered,  *  I  will  be  punctual.  The 
Grand  Cerf  is  but  a  couple  of  hundred  toises  to 
your  right.' 

As  I  rode  up  the  narrow  and  ill-paved  street  I 


MONSIEUR  DE  PREAULX  \\^ 

heard  d*Aubusson  whistling  a  catch  as  he  turned 
into  the  guard-room,  and  congratulated  myself  on 
my  stratagem  and  the  luck  that  had  befriended 
it.  I  knew  enough  of  court  intrigue  to  be  aware 
that  de  Sancy  and  the  Marshal  were  at  each 
other's  throats,  and  that  I  could  therefore  always 
get  protection  here  by  declaring  myself  against 
Biron.  Then  came  a  short  turn  to  the  right,  and 
Monsieur  de  Preaulx  of  the  Anjoumois  was  at  the 
door  of  the  Grand  Cerf,  It  opened  to  my  knock, 
and  Jacques,  faithful  knave,  was  in  waiting.  Af- 
ter this  there  followed  the  usual  little  delay  and 
bustle  consequent  on  a  new  arrival. 

As  I  dismounted  Jacques  whispered  in  my  ear, 
*  You  are  M.  de  Preaulx  of  Saumur  in  the  Anjou- 
mois, monsieur.' 

*  So  M.  d'Aubusson  tells  me,'  I  replied  in  the 
same  tone,  and  then  louder,  *  but  you  might  have 
made  a  mess  of  it,  Jacques — however,  you  meant 
well,  and  I  owe  you  five  crowns  for  your  good 
intentions.  Now  call  mine  host,  and  tell  him  to 
show  me  to  my  rooms  whilst  you  see  to  the 
horses.' 

Mine  host  was  already  there,  in  slippered 
feet,  with  a  long  candle  in  one  hand  and  a 
cup  of  warmed  Romance  in  the  other.  He  led 
the  way  with  many  bows,  and  I  limped  after 
him  to  a  room  which  was  large  and  comfortable 
enough. 

*  Here  is  some  mulled  Romance  for  monsieur  le 
baron,'  he  said,  as  he  handed  me  the  goblet ;  '  his 
lordship  the  count  will  observe  that  the  best  room 


Il8  THE   CHEVALIER  D'AURIAC 

has  been  kept  for  him,  and  later  on  I  will  have 
the  pleasure  of  setting  the  finest  dinner  in  France 
before  the  most  noble  marquis  ;  good  night,  mon- 
seigneur,  good  night  and  good  dreams,'  and  he 
tottered  off,  leaving  me  to  drink  the  mulled  wine, 
which  was  superb,  and  to  sleep  the  sleep  of  the 
utterly  weary. 

It  was  late  when  I  awoke  and  found  Jacques  in 
my  room,  attending  to  my  things.  The  rest  had 
done  my  leg  good,  although  it  was  still  stiff,  and 
the  wearing  of  a  long  boot  painful.  As  I  finished 
my  toilet  I  asked  my  man, 

*  Horses  ready  ? ' 

*  They  will  be  by  the  time  Monsieur  has  dined. 
I  shall  put  the  valises  on  the  nag  we  got  at 
Evreux  for  you.' 

'  Right.  Morbleu  !  1  hear  M.  d'Aubusson  be- 
low.    It  is  very  late.' 

*  It  has  just  gone  the  dinner  hour.' 

I  hurried  downstairs,  leaving  Jacques  to  pack, 
and  was  only  just  in  time  to  receive  my  guest. 

'  A  hundred  pardons,  monsieur;  but  I  overslept 
myself.' 

*  'Tis  a  sleepy  place,'  he  answered,  *  there  is 
nothing  to  do  but  to  sleep.' 

'  Surely  there  is  something  to  love.' 

*  Not  a  decent  ankle  under  a  petticoat.' 

*  At  any  rate  we  can  eat.  Come,  sit  you  down. 
My  ride  has  made  me  hungry  as  a  wolf,  and  I 
have  far  to  go.' 

The  dinner  was  excellent,  the  Armagnac  of  the 
finest  vintage,  and  d'Aubusson  to  all  appearances 


MONSIEUR  DE  PREAULX     ,  II9 

a  gay  frank-hearted  fellow,  and  we  became  very 
friendly  as  the  wine  cup  passed. 

^  Tell  me  what  induced  M.  de  Sancy  to  quarter 
his  company  here?*  I  asked  towards  the  close  of 
the  meal,  as  the  lieutenant  was  cursing  his  luck  at 
being  stationed  at  Rouvres. 

He  burst  out  laughing;  '  Oh  !  M.  de  Sancy  has 
a  government  and  five  thousand  livres  a  year  to 
maintain  his  company,  and  being  a  pious  soul  has 
enlisted  all  the  saints,  and  keeps  them  as  far  as 
possible  from  the  temptations  of  Paris/ 

*  Enlisted  the  saints  !  * 

*Yes  —  this  Armagnac  is  excellent — yes,  the 
saints.  Our  gentlemen  are  all  from  heaven — there 
is  St.  Andre,  St.  Vincent,  St.  Martin,  St.  Blaise, 
St.  Loy,  St.  Pol,  and  half  the  calendar  besides !  * 

'  Ha  !  ha  !  the  heavenly  host.' 

*  Oh  !  I  am  proud,  I  assure  you.  I  command 
the  company  from  Paradise.' 

*  Or  the  gendarmes  of  the  Kyrielle.* 

'Noel!  Noel!'  he  called  out  gaily,  and  as  he 
did  so  we  heard  a  clatter  of  hoofs  in  the  court- 
yard, and  a  few  mon;ents  afterwards  the  land- 
lord ushered  in  two  gentlemen.  It  took  me  but  a 
glance  to  recognise  in  one  the  Italian  Zamet,  and 
in  the  other  the  Chevalier  Lafin.  It  cost  me  an 
effort  to  compose  myself,  so  much  was  I  startled  ; 
but  I  comforted  myself  with  the  assurance  that  I 
was  unknown  to  them,  and  that  an  arrest  would 
be  no  easy  matter  with  Sancy 's  company  at  hand. 
Beyond  bowing  to  us,  however,  as  they  passed, 
they  took  no  further  notice  of  me  for  the  present, 


I20  THE   CHEVALIER  D'AURIAC 

and  contented  themselves  with  ordering  some 
wine,  and  conversing  in  low  tones  at  the  table  at 
which  they  sat. 

Nevertheless,  it  was  a  piece  of  ill  luck.  These 
men  were  evidently  back  on  their  way  to  Paris, 
and  by  coming  through  Rouvres  had  stumbled 
upon  me  in  such  a  manner  as  to  hold  me  at  seri- 
ous disadvantage.  My  one  consolation  was  that 
Zamet  did  not  look  like  a  fighting  man,  and  as 
for  the  other,  there  was  an  equal  chance  for  each 
of  us  ;  but  I  had  no  idea  what  their  force  might 
be  outside.  It  turned  out  that  it  was  very  small, 
and  it  was  owing  to  this  that  the  incident  I  am 
about  to  describe  ended  so  peacefully.  A  look  or 
two  in  our  direction  appeared  to  indicate  that  the 
new  arrivals  were  discussing  us,  and  my  doubts 
were  soon  set  at  rest  by  a  lackey  entering  and 
holding  a  brief  whispered  talk  with  Zamet.  He 
dismissed  the  man  quietly,  and  then  bending  for- 
ward said  something  to  Lafin,  and  both,  rising, 
approached  us. 

'  Monsieur  will  pardon  me,'  said  Zamet,  ad- 
dressing me  with  his  lisping  Italian  accent,  '  but 
I  understand  that  you  entered  Rouvres  late  last 
night.' 

'  Yes,'  I  answered,  whilst  d'Aubusson  raised  his 
eyebrows  and  leaned  back  in  his  chair,  twirling 
his  moustache. 

'  Then  would  you  be  so  kind  as  to  inform  me,  if 
you  came  by  the  road  from  Anet,  whether  you 
met  a  wounded  horseman  riding  this  way  ? ' 

*  Before    I   answer  any   questions,  will  you  be 


MONSIEUR  DE  PREAULX  121 

good  enough  to  tell  me  who  you  are,  gentle- 
men?' 

'  I  am  Zamet,  Comptroller  of  the  King's  house- 
hold/ replied  the  Italian. 

'  And  I  the  Chevalier  de  Lafin,  nephew  and 
heir  to  the  Vidame  de  Chartres/ 

'  I  see  no  reason  to  reply  to  your  question,  mes- 
sieurs, even  if  you  are  the  persons  you  name/ 

Zamet  smiled  slightly,  with  a  meaning  look  to- 
wards Lafin,  who  burst  out : 

^  Have  a  care,  monsieur,  remember  I  follow  the 
Marshal  due  de  Biron/ 

'  Of  Burgundy  and  La  Bresse,'  I  added  with  a 
sneer,  rising  from  my  seat,  my  hand  on  my  sword 
hilt. 

*  It  is  he,'  exclaimed  the  Italian,  and  Lafin,  who 
saw  my  movement,  stepped  back  half  a  pace, 
not  from  fear,  but  to  gain  room  to  draw  his 
weapon. 

*  My  dear  lieutenant,'  and  I  turned  to  d'Aubus- 
son,  ^you  complain  that  this  is  a  dull  place.  We 
shall  now  have  some  relaxation.  These  gentle- 
men want  a  question  answered,  and  I  say  cer- 
tainly— I  suggest  the  garden  as  a  suitable  place 
for  our  conference.  Will  you  do  me  the  favour 
to  look  on  ? ' 

*  That  will  be  slower  than  ever  for  me.  If  you 
will  allow  me  to  join  you  ? ' 

*  Delighted.  You  are  my  guest,  and  it  will 
make  us  exactly  two  to  two.  Now,  gentlemen,*  I 
will  answer  your  question  on  the  lawn.'  Whilst 
we  were  speaking,  some  hurried  words  passed  be- 


122  THE    CHEVALIER   D'AURIAC 

tween  Lafin  and  Zamet,  and  as  I  turned  to  them 
with  my  invitation  the  Italian  answered : 

*  There  was  no  offence  meant,  monsieur.  We 
had  business  with  the  man  from  Anet/  he  looked 
hard  at  me  as  he  spoke,  '  and  at  present  we  have 
not  leisure  to  attend  to  you.  We  will,  therefore, 
not  intrude  on  you  further.  We  but  stay  for  a 
glass  of  wine,  and  then  press  onwards.' 

'  Hum  !  *  exclaimed  d*Aubusson,  surveying  him 
from  head  to  bootheel,  and  then  turning  an 
equally  contemptuous  look  at  Lafin,  *you  are 
very  disobliging  gentlemen.* 

'  This  is  not  to  be  borne,*  burst  out  Lafin. 
*  Come,  sir ' 

But  Zamet  again  interposed. 

'  Diavolo  I  Chevalier,  your  courage  is  known. 
We  will  settle  with  these  gentlemen  another  day 
— you  forget.  Will  you  risk  all  now  ?  *  His  com- 
panion put  back  his  half-drawn  sword  with  a  curse 
and  a  snap,  and,  turning  on  his  heel,  went  to  the 
other  end  of  the  room,  followed  by  Zamet.  There 
they  drank  their  wine  and  departed,  and  an  hour 
later  I  also  started.  D'Aubusson  insisted  on  ac- 
companying me  part  of  the  way  with  a  couple  of 
his  saints,  and,  as  we  approached  the  Paris  gate, 
we  observed  a  man  riding  slowly,  a  little  ahead 
of  us.  ^  I  recognise  the  grey,'  said  Jacques,  coming 
to  my  side.  *  Monsieur,  that  is  one  of  the  three 
servants  the  two  gentlemen  who  have  gone  before 
had  with  them.' 

This  small  force  accounted,  as  I  have  said,  for 
the  moderation  Zamet  had  shown ;  but  it  flashed 


MONSIEUR   DE  PREAULX  1 23 

upon  me  that  the  lackey  had  been  left  behind  for 
no  other  purpose  than  that  of  observing  our  route. 
Even  if  I  was  wrong  in  this  surmise  it  was  well  to 
be  prudent,  and  turning  to  d'Aubusson  I  said : 

'  Monsieur,  I  wish  to  be  frank  with  you.  It  is 
true  that  I  am  bearing  news  to  Paris  which  will 
be  of  the  greatest  service  to  the  King;  but  my 
name  is  not  de  Preaulx.* 

*  I  know  that,'  he  said  quietly,  '  I  am  of  the  An- 
joumois,  and  there  is  no  such  name  there/ 

'And  you  did  not  arrest  me?' 

*  Why  the  devil  should  I?  The  land  is  at  peace, 
and  I  have  been  Monsieur  *'  I-Don't-Know-What " 
before  now  myself.  Besides,  you  were  in  my 
hands  at  the  Grand  Cerf,  You  are  in  my  hands 
now.  But  I  wanted  to  know  more,  and  when  I 
saw  that  you  were  an  object  of  M.  Zamet's  atten- 
tions I  knew  you  were  on  our  side.' 

'Exactly   so,   and    I   owe   you   much   for  this. 
There  is  another  favour  I  would  ask.' 
'And  it  is?' 

*  That  you  stop  the  man  riding  ahead  of  us  un- 
til this  evening.' 

*As  it  will  annoy  Zamet,  I  shall  do  so  with 
pleasure.  I  had  half  a  mind  to  stop  the  shoe- 
maker himself.' 

With  this  allusion  to  Zamet's  ignoble  origin  he 
turned  and  gave  a  short  order  to  his  men.  As 
we  came  up  to  the  gate  the  man  before  us  slack- 
ened pace  so  as  to  let  us  pass,  with  the  obvious 
intention,  so  I  thought,  of  following  me  at  his 
convenience.     He  had  hardly  pulled   rein  when 


124  THE   CHEVALIER  D'AURIAC 

the  two  saints  closed  in,  one  on  each  side  of  him, 
and  in  a  trice  he  was  in  their  hands.  He  pro- 
tested violently,  as  might  have  been  expected, 
but  in  vain,  and  we  waited  until  he  was  well  out 
of  sight  on  his  way  to  the  guard-room. 

At  the  gate  we  asked  which  way  Zamet  and 
his  party  had  gone. 

'  By  Tacoignieres,  messieurs,'  answered  the 
sentinel. 

'  Then  my  way  is  by  Septeuil,*  I  said.  *  I  owe 
you  a  long  debt,  M.  d'Aubusson,  and  will  repay. 
We  shall  meet  again.* 

^  Pardieu  !  I  hope  so — and  you  dine  with  me  at 
Morels.* 

*  Or  where  you  will — adieu.* 

*  A  good  journey.* 

And  with  a  parting  wave  of  my  hand  I  turned 
Couronne*s  head,  and  galloped  off,  followed  by 
Jacques. 


CHAPTER  IX 

THE  MASTER-GENERAL 

In  the  labyrinth  of  narrow  streets,  crooked 
roads,  and  blind  alleys  behind  the  Palais  de  Jus- 
tice, where  the  houses  are  so  crowded,  that  they 
seem  to  climb  one  over  the  other  in  their  efforts 
to  reach  higher  and  higher  in  their  search  for  air, 
is  a  small  street  called  the  Rue  des  Deux  Mondes. 
It  had  this  advantage — that  it  was  wider  than 
most  of  the  other  roads  in  that  part  of  Paris,  and 
opened  out  abruptly  on  to  the  river  face,  very 
nearly  opposite  the  upper  portion  of  the  Pont 
Neuf,  then  under  course  of  construction  but  not 
to  be  finished  for  some  years  later.  At  the  cor- 
ner of  the  street  and  overlooking  the  river,  the 
Pont  Neuf,  the  Passeur  aux  Vaches,  with  a 
glimpse  of  the  Quai  Malaquais  and  the  mansions 
of  the  Faubourg  St.  Germain,  was  a  house  of 
moderate  size  kept  and  owned  by  a  Maitre  Pan- 
tin,  who  was  engaged  nominally,  in  some  legal 
business  in  the  courts  of  the  city.  I  say  nomi- 
nally, because  he  was  in  reality  an  agent  of  the 
Huguenot  party,  who,  having  contributed  so 
largely  to  help  the  King  to  his  own,  were  in  re- 
ward restricted  from  the  public  exercise  of  their 
religion  to  a  radius  of  thirty  miles  beyond  Paris. 

125 


126  THE   CHEVALIER  D'AURIAC 

This  restriction  did  not,  however,  apply  to  Ma- 
dame Catherine,  the  King's  sister,  now  the  Duch- 
ess de  Bar,  and  a  few  of  the  great  nobles  such  as 
Bouillon,  de  Guiche,  de  Pangeas,  and  one  or  two 
others,  who  had  declined  to  follow  the  King's  ex- 
ample and  see  the  error  of  their  religious  ways, 
and  who  when  in  the  capital  were  allowed  to  at- 
tend the  princess'  daily  preche  in  the  Louvre,  a 
thing  which  exasperated  all  Paris,  and  induced 
Monseigneur  the  Archbishop  de  Gondy  to  make 
public  protest  to  the  King,  and  to  come  back 
very  downcast  with  a  carrot  for  his  cabbage. 

It  was  this  house  of  Maitre  Pantin,  it  will  be 
remembered,  that  had  been  recommended  to  me 
as  a  lodging  by  Palin,  who  told  me  of  the  owner  s 
occupation,  and  when  I  demurred  on  account  of 
my  religious  convictions,  the  Huguenot  pointed 
out  that  I  had  to  do  things  in  Paris  which  re- 
quired a  safe  retreat,  and  that  he  could  vouch  for 
the  honesty  and  discretion  of  Pantin.  I  admitted 
that  his  arguments  were  reasonable,  and  resolved 
to  take  advantage  of  his  recommendation. 

We  rode  into  Paris  by  the  St.  Germain's  gate, 
and  I  was  immediately  struck  by  the  aspect  of 
gloom  that  the  city  wore.  Most  of  the  shops 
were  indeed  open,  but  there  appeared  to  be  no 
business  doing,  and  instead  of  men  hurrying  back- 
wards and  forwards,  the  streets  were  filled  with 
groups  of  people  evidently  engaged  in  discussing 
some  affair  of  the  utmost  moment.  Every  third 
or  fourth  man  wore  a  black  scarf  over  his  right 
arm,  and  the  bells  of  the  churches  were  tolling 


THE  MASTER-GENERAL  1 27 

dismally  for  the  dead.  From  St.  Germain  des 
Pres,  from  St.  Severin,  from  the  airy  spire  of  Ste. 
Chapelle,  they  called  out  mournfully,  and  above 
them  all,  drowning  the  distant  voices  of  St.  Ger- 
main I'Auxerrois,  St.  Jacques  de  la  Boucherie,  St. 
Antoine,  and  others  less  known  to  fame,  pealed 
out  the  solemn  notes  of  the  Bourdon  of  N6tre 
Dame. 

Near  the  Pr6-aux-clercs,  hundreds  of  long-robed 
students  were  assembled,  and  the  windows  of  many 
of  the  great  houses,  including  the  Logis  de  Nevers, 
were  hung  with  black.  It  was  strange  to  see 
Paris,  always  so  bright  and  gay,  with  this  solemn 
air  upon  it.  No  notice  was  taken  of  us  as  we  rode 
on,  the  knots  of  people  merely  moving  aside  to 
let  us  pass,  and  answering  Jacques'  cheerful 
*  good-day  *  with  a  silent  inclination  of  the  head 
or  a  chill  indifference. 

^  Pardieu,  monsieur,*  exclaimed  Jacques,  as  we 
turned  up  the  Rue  de  la  Harpe,  hard  by  the 
Hotel  de  Cluny,  *  one  would  think  the  King  him- 
self were  dead,  these  gentry  pull  such  long  faces.* 
My  servant's  chance  observation  sent  a  sudden 
shock  through  me.  What  if  Henry  was  dead  ! 
What  if  I  had  got  only  one  thread  of  the  plot 
that  was  weaving  at  Anet?  1  did  not  answer 
Jacques ;  but  observing  a  Capuchin  priest  advan- 
cing in  my  direction,  I  reined  in  Couronne,  and 
giving  him  the  day,  asked  what  it  was  that  had 
befallen  the  city.  He  looked  up  at  me  in  a  slight 
surprise,  and  then,  observing  my  travel-stained 
appearance,  replied  : 


128  THE   CHEVALIER  D'AURIAC 

*  I  see  you  are  a  stranger,  sir  ;  but  have  you  not 
heard  the  news — it  should  have  gone  far  by  this  ? ' 

*  I  have  not,  as  you  see — but  what  is  it  ?  Surely 
the  King  is  not  dead?' 

*  God  forbid,'  he  answered,  *  no,  not  the  King ; 
but  she  who  in  a  few  weeks  would  have  been 
Queen  of  France/ 

*  The  Duchesse  de  Beaufort  ?  ' 

*  Exactly/ 

*  I  knew  that ;  but  you  don't  mean  to  say  that 
the  city  is  in  mourning  for  the  mistress  of  the 
King?' 

He  looked  at  me  straight  in  the  face,  and 
stroked  his  white  beard  thoughtfully.  He  was  a 
tall,  a  very  tall,  thin  man,  and  his  eyes,  of  the 
clearest  blue,  seemed  to  lighten  with  a  strange 
light. 

'  No,  my  son,  not  for  the  mistress  of  the  King, 
as  you  call  her,  but  for  the  open  hand  and  the 
generous  heart,  for  the  kindly  soul  that  never 
turned  from  suffering  or  from  sorrow,  for  Mag- 
dalen bountiful,  and,  let  us  hope,  Magdalen  re- 
pentant.' 

'  But ' 

'  Adieu,  my  son — think  of  what  I  have  said.  Is 
your  own  heart  so  pure  that  you  can  afford  to 
cast  a  stone  at  the  dead  ?'  And  without  waiting 
for  a  further  answer  he  went  onwards.  I  turned 
and  watched  the  tall,  slim  figure  as  it  moved 
through  the  crowd,  the  people  making  way  for 
him  on  every  side  as  if  he  were  a  prince  of  the 
church. 


THE  MASTER-GENERAL  1 29 

But  though  he  was  slowly  passing  out  of  sight, 
he  had  left  words  behind  him  that  were  at  their 
work.  This  was  the  woman  whom  I  had  openly- 
reviled  as  fallen  and  beyond  the  pale — had  I  any 
right  to  cast  stones?  For  a  moment  I  was  lost  in 
myself,  when  Jacques*  voice  cut  into  my  thoughts. 

*  That  must  have  been  a  cardinal  at  least,  mon- 
sieur, though  he  does  not  look  like  the  Cardinal 
du  Perron,  whom  we  heard  preach  at  Rheims — I 
will  ask,*  and  he  inquired  who  the  Capuchin  was, 
of  a  man  who  had  just  come  up. 

*  That  is  the  pere  Ange,  monsieur,'  was  the  an- 
swer, and  the  man  went  on,  leaving  Jacques* 
thanks  in  the  air. 

The  pere  Ange.  The  name  brought  back  a  host 
of  recollections  to  me  as  I  shook  up  Couronne's 
reins  and  headed  her  towards  the  Pont  St.  Michel. 
I  saw  myself  a  boy  again  in  the  suite  of  Joyeuse, 
and  remembered  with  what  awe  I  used  to  gaze 
on  the  brilliant  de  Bouchage,  his  brother,  who 
was  a  frequent  visitor  at  Orleans.  His  splendid 
attire,  his  courtly  air,  the  great  deeds  he  had 
done  were  in  all  men*s  mouths.  We  youngsters, 
who  saw  him  at  a  respectful  distance,  aped  the 
cut  of  his  cloak,  the  tilt  of  his  sword,  the  cock  of 
his  plumed  hat.  If  we  only  knew  how  he  made 
love,  we  would  have  tried  to  do  so  in  like  man- 
ner; but  for  this  each  one  of  us  had  to  find  out  a 
way  of  his  own. 

All  at  once  it  was  rumoured  that  the  chevalier 
had  vanished,  disappeared  mysteriously,  and  that 
every  trace  of  him  was  lost.  There  were  men 
9 


I30  THE   CHEVALIER   D'AURIAC 

who  whispered  of  the  Chatelet,  or,  worse  still,  the 
Bastille ;  others  who  said  the  Seine  was  very 
deep  near  the  mills  by  the  Pont  aux  Meunniers ; 
others  who  put  together  the  sudden  retreat  from 
the  court  of  the  brilliant  but  infamous  Madame 
de  Sauves,  the  Rose  of  Guise,  with  the  disappear- 
ance of  de  Bouchage,  and  shook  their  heads  and 
winked  knowingly.  They  were  all  wrong.  Gra- 
dually the  truth  came  out,  and  it  became  known 
that  the  polished  courtier,  the  great  soldier,  and 
the  splendid  cavalier  had  thrown  awa}'-  the  world 
as  one  would  fling  aside  an  old  cloak,  and  buried 
himself  in  a  cloister. 

It  was  a  ten  days*  wonder;  then  other  things 
happened,  and  perhaps  not  one  in  ten  thousand 
remembered,  in  the  saintly  p^re  Ange,  the  once 
fiery  prince  of  the  house  of  Joyeuse. 

I  have  mentioned  this  because  of  his  reproof  to 
me.  Day  by  day  my  education  was  progressing, 
and  I  began  to  recognise  that  my  virtue  was 
pitiless,  that  I  was  too  ready  to  judge  harshly  of 
others.  Pere  Ange's  reproof  was  a  lesson  I  meant 
to  profit  by ;  and  now — to  the  abode  of  Maitre 
Pantin. 

Palin's  directions  were  clear,  and  after  crossing 
the  Pont  St.  Michel,  a  wooden  bridge,  we  kept 
to  the  south  of  Ste.  Chapelle,  and  then,  after 
many  a  twist  and  turn,  found  ourselves  in  the 
Rue  des  Deux  Mondes,  before  the  doors  of  Pan- 
tin's  house. 

The  master  himself  answered  my  knock  and 
stood   in   the  doorway,  a   small,  wizened  figure, 


THE  MASTER-GENERAL  13 1 

looking   at   us   cautiously  from   grey  eyes,   sha- 
dowed by  bushy  white  brows. 

'  Good-day,  monsieur — what  is  it  I  can  do  for 
you  ?  * 

*  You  are  Maitre  Pantin  ?  ' 

*  At  your  service/ 

*  And  I  am  the  Chevalier  d'Auriac.  I  have 
come  to  Paris  from  Bidache  on  business,  and 
need  a  lodging.  Maitre  Palin  has  recommended 
me  to  you.* 

*  Enough,  monsieur  le  chevalier.  My  friend 
Palin's  name  is  sufficient,  and  I  have  need  of 
clients,  for  the  house  is  empty.  If  Monsieur's 
servant  will  lead  the  horses  through  that  lane 
there,  he  will  find  an  entrance  to  the  stables — and 
will  Monsieur  step  in  and  take  a  seat  while  I  sum- 
mon my  wife — Annette  !  Annette  !  * 

I  limped  in  and  sat  down,  escorted  by  expres- 
sions of  compassion  from  Pantin,  who  mingled 
these  with  shouts  for  Annette.  In  a  little  time 
Madame  Pantin  appeared,  and  never  have  I  seen 
so  great  a  resemblance  between  husband  and  wife 
as  between  these  two.  There  was  the  same  small, 
shrivelled  figure,  the  same  clear-cut  features,  the 
same  white  eyebrows  standing  prominently  out 
over  the  same  grey  eyes — their  height,  walk,  and 
tone  of  voice  even,  was  almost  the  same.  Madame, 
however,  had  an  eye  to  business,  which  her  hus- 
band, although  I  understood  him  to  be  a  notary, 
had  not  discovered  to  me,  and  whilst  he  went  off 
to  see,  as  he  said,  to  the  arrangements  for  the 
horses,  Madame  Annette  struck  a  bargain  with 


132  THE   CHEVALIER  D'AURIAC 

me  for  my  lodging,  which  I  closed  with  at  once, 
as  I  was  in  sufficient  funds  to  be  a  little  extrava- 
gant. This  matter  being  arranged  by  my  instant 
agreement  to  her  terms,  she  showed  me  to  my 
rooms,  which  were  on  the  second  floor,  and  com- 
manded a  good  view  of  the  river  face;  and,  pock- 
eting a  week's  rental  in  advance,  the  old  lady 
retired,  after  recommending  me  to  an  ordinary 
where  the  food  was  excellent  and  the  Fronti- 
gnac  old. 

I  spent  the  remainder  of  the  day  doing  nothing, 
going  forth  but  to  sup  quietly  at  the  Two  Ecus, 
which  I  found  fully  upheld  the  good  name 
Madame  Pantin  had  given  it,  and  returning  early 
to  my  rooms. 

Sitting  in  an  easy  chair  at  a  window  overlook- 
ing the  Seine,  I  lost  myself  for  a  while  in  a  dream- 
land of  reverie.  Let  it  be  remembered  that  I  was 
a  man  of  action,  who  had  been  awakened  by  the 
love  he  bore  for  a  woman  to  a  sense  of  his  own 
unfitness,  and  it  will  be  realised  how  difficult  it 
was  for  me  to  look  into  myself.  I  tried  to  tick  off 
my  failings  in  my  mind,  and  found  they  were 
hydra-headed.  There  were  some  that  I  alone 
could  not  combat,  and  I  hated  myself  for  my  want 
of  moral  strength.  I  had  groped  towards  religion 
for  aid,  to  the  faith  of  my  fathers ;  but  there  were 
doctrines  and  canons  there  that  I  could  not  recon- 
cile with  my  inward  conscience.  I  could  not  believe 
all  I  was  asked  to  take  on  trust,  and  I  felt  I  was 
insensibly  turning  towards  the  simpler  faith  of 
the  Huguenot.    But  here,  again,  I  was  in  troublous 


THE  MASTER-GENERAL  133 

waters.  I  had  got  over  the  sinful  pride  that 
prevented  me  from  approaching  my  God  in 
humbleness,  but  I  found  that  prayer,  though  it 
gave  momentary  relief,  did  not  give  permanent 
strength  to  resist,  and  a  sort  of  spiritual  despair 
fell  upon  me.  Along  with  this  was  an  unalterable 
longing  to  be  near  the  woman  I  loved,  to  feel  her 
presence  about  me,  to  know  that  she  loved  me  as 
I  loved  her,  and,  in  short,  I  would  rather  go  ten 
times  up  to  a  battery  of  guns  than  feel  over  again 
the  desolation  and  agony  of  spirit  that  was  on  me 
then.  So  I  spent  an  hour  or  so  in  a  state  of  hope- 
less mental  confusion,  and  at  last  I  cut  it  short  by 
pulling  myself  up  abruptly.  Win  or  lose,  I  would 
follow  the  dictates  of  my  conscience.  If  I  could, 
I  w^ould  win  the  woman  I  loved,  and  with  God's 
help  and  her  aid  lead  such  a  life  as  would  bring 
us  both  to  Him  when  we  died.  It  was  a  quick, 
unspoken  prayer  that  went  up  from  me,  and  it 
brought  back  in  a  moment  its  comfort. 

Jacques'  coming  into  the  room  at  this  juncture 
was  a  relief.  He  lit  the  tall  candles  that  stood  in 
the  grotesque  bronze  holders  that  projected  from 
the  wall,  and  then,  drawing  the  curtains,  inquired 
if  I  needed  his  services  further  that  night. 

*  I  don't  think  so,  Jacques — but  stay  !  * 

*  Monsieur.' 

*  How  do  we  stand  ?  * 

*  Oh,  well  enough,  monsieur.  Better  really  than 
for  a  long  time.  We  have  three  horses  and  their 
equipment — although  one  of  Monsieur's  pistols  is 
broken — and  a  full  hundred  and  fifty  crowns.* 


134  THE    CHEVALIER  D'AURIAC 

*  A  perfect  fortune  —  are  you  sure  of  the 
crowns?* 

*  As  I  am  of  being  here,  monsieur/ 

*  Well,  then,  there  is  something  I  want  you  to 
do,  and  attend  with  both  ears/ 

'  Monsieur/ 

*  I  want  you  to  take  the  two  horses  we  got  at 
Evreux  and  fifty  crowns,  and  go  back  to  Ezy. 
Keep  ten  crowns  for  yourself  and  give  forty  to 
the  smith  and  his  daughter,  and  take  them  with 
you  to  Auriac.  The  forester's  lodge  is  vacant — 
let  them  live  there,  or,  if  they  like,  there  is  room 
enough  in  the  chateau.  I  will  give  you  a  letter  to 
Bozon.  He  wants  help,  and  these  people  will  be 
of  service  to  him.  After  you  have  done  this,  sell 
one  of  the  horses — you  may  keep  the  proceeds, 
and  come  back  to  me.  If  I  am  not  here  you  will 
get  certain  news  of  me,  and  can  easily  find  me  out 
— you  follow  ?  *     , 

'  Exactly.' 

*Then  when  will  you  be  prepared  to  start?' 

*  As  soon  as  Monsieur  le  Chevalier  is  suited 
with  another  man  as  faithful  as  I.' 

'  Eh ! ' 

*  Sangdieu  !  monsieur,  I  shall  never  forget  what 
p}re  Michel  and  the  old  steward  Bozon  said  when 
I  came  home  last  without  you.  I  believe  if  I 
were  to  do  so  again  the  good  cure  would  excom- 
municate me,  and  Maitre  Bozon  would  have  me 
flung  into  the  bay  to  follow.  If  I  were  to  go  back 
and  leave  you  alone  in  Paris  anything  might  hap- 
pen.    No!  no!     My  fathers  have  served  Auriac 


THE  MASTER-GENERAL  135 

for  two  hundred  years,  and  it  shall  never  be  said 
that  Jacques  Bisson  left  the  last  of  the  old  race  to 
die  alone — never! ' 

*  My  friend,  you  are  mad — who  the  devil  talks 
of  dying?* 

*  Monsieur,  I  am  not  such  a  fool  as  perhaps  I 
look.  Do  I  not  understand  that  Monsieur  has  an 
affair  in  hand  which  has  more  to  do  with  a  rapier 
than  a  ribbon?  If  not,  why  the  night  ride,  why 
the  broken  pistol,  and  the  blood-stained  saddle 
of  Couronne?  If  Monsieur  had  come  to  Paris  in 
the  ordinary  way,  we  would  have  been  at  court, 
fluttering  it  as  gaily  as  the  rest,  and  cocking  our 
bonnets  with  the  best  of  them — instead  of  hiding 
here  like  a  fox  in  his  lair.* 

*  You  are  complimentary ;  but  it  is  to  help  me 
I  want  you  to  do  this.* 

*  The  best  help  Monsieur  can  have  is  a  true 
sword  at  his  elbow — Monsieur  will  excuse  me, 
but  I  will  not  go,*  and,  angry  as  his  tone  was, 
there  were  tears  in  the  honest  fellow*s  eyes.  Of 
course  I  could  have  dismissed  the  man  ;  but  I 
knew  him  too  well  not  to  know  that  nothing  short 
of  killing  him  would  rid  me  of  him.  Again  I  was 
more  than  touched  by  his  fidelity.  Nevertheless, 
I  was  determined  to  carry  out  my  project  of  ma- 
king up  to  Marie  in  some  way  for  the  death  of 
Nicholas,  and  resolved  to  temporise  with  Jacques. 
There  was  no  one  else  to  send,  and  it  would  have 
to  be  my  stout-hearted  knave;  but  the  business 
was  to  get  him  to  go. 

'  Very  well,  Jacques ;  but  remember,  if  I  get 


13^  THE   CHEVALIER  D'AURIAC 

other  temporary  help  that  you  approve  of  you 
will  have  to  go/ 

*  In  that  case,  monsieur,  it  is  different' 

*  Then  it  must  be  your  business  to  see  to  this, 
and  now  good  night/ 

'  Good  night,  monsieur,*  and  he  took  himself  off. 

I  had  made  up  my  mind  to  lay  my  information 
before  Sully.  That  he  was  in  Paris  I  knew,  ha- 
ving obtained  the  information  from  Pantin,  and  it 
was  my  intention  to  repair  the  next  day  to  the 
Hotel  de  Bethune,  and  tell  the  minister  all.  The 
night  was  one  of  those  in  which  sleep  would  not 
come,  not  because  the  place  was  a  strange  one — 
I  was  too  old  a  campaigner  to  lose  rest  because 
the  same  feather  pillow  was  not  under  my  head 
every  night — but  because  my  thoughts  kept  me 
awake.  What  these  were  I  have  already  de- 
scribed, and  they  were  in  force  sufficient  to  ban- 
ish all  sleep  until  the  small  hours  were  well  on, 
and  I  at  last  dropped  off,  with  the  solemn  notes  of 
the  Bourdon  ringing  in  my  ears. 

It  was  about  ten  o'clock  the  next  morning  that 
I  mounted  Couronne,  and,  followed  by  Jacques, 
well  armed,  took  my  way  towards  the  Hotel  de 
Bethune.  We  found  the  Barillierie  thronged 
with  people  on  their  way  to  St.  Denis  to  witness 
the  burial  of  Madame  de  Beaufort,  and  the  Pont 
au  Change  was  so  crowded  that  we  had  to  wait 
there  for  a  full  half-hour.  At  last  we  got  across 
the  bridge,  on  which  in  their  eagerness  for  gain 
the  money-changers  had  fixed  their  stalls,  and 
pushed  and  struggled  and  fought  over  their  busi- 


THE  MASTER-GENERAL  1 37 

ness  on  each  side  of  the  narrow  track  they  left  for 
the  public.  Finally,  we  passed  the  grey  walls  of 
the  Grand  Chatelet,  and  turning  to  our  right, 
past  St.  Jacques,  the  Place  de  Gr6ve,  and  the 
Hotel  de  Ville,  got  into  the  Rue  St.  Antoine  by  a 
side  street  that  ran  from  St.  Gervais  to  the  Bau- 
dets.  Here  we  found  the  main  street  almost  de- 
serted, all  Paris  having  crowded  to  the  funeral, 
and  a  quarter-mile  or  so  brought  us  to  the  gates 
of  the  Hotel  de  Bethune. 

Sully  had  just  received  the  Master-Generalship 
of  the  Ordnance,  and  at  his  door  was  a  guard  of 
the  regiment  of  La  Ferte.  I  knew  the  blue  uni- 
forms with  the  white  sashes  well,  and  they  had 
fought  like  fiends  at  Fontaine  Frangaise  and  Ham. 
The  officer  on  guard  very  civilly  told  me  that  the 
minister  did  not  receive  that  day,  but  on  my  in- 
sisting and  pointing  out  that  my  business  was  of 
the  utmost  importance,  he  gave  way  with  a  shrug 
of  his  shoulders.  *  Go  on,  monsieur  le  chevalier, 
but  I  can  tell  you  it  is  of  no  use ;  however,  that  is 
a  business  you  must  settle  with  Ivoy,  the  duke's 
secretary.' 

I  thanked  him,  and,  dismounting  and  flinging 
the  reins  to  Jacques,  passed  up  the  courtyard  and 
up  the  stone  steps  to  the  entrance  door.  Here 
I  was  met  by  the  same  statement,  that  Sully  was 
unable  to  receive  to-day ;  but,  on  my  insisting,  the 
secretary  Ivoy  appeared  and  asked  me  my  name 
and  business. 

*I  have  given  my  name  twice  already,  mon- 
sieur,' I  answered.     '  I  am  the  Chevalier  d' Auriac, 


138  THE   CHEVALIER  D'AURIAC 

and  as  for  my  business  it  is  of  vital  import,  and  is 
for  Monseigneur's  ear  alone — you  will,  therefore, 
excuse  me  if  I  decline  to  mention  it  to  you.* 

Ivoy  bowed.  *  It  will  come  to  me  in  its  own 
good  time,  monsieur.  Will  you  be  seated?  I 
will  deliver  your  message  to  the  duke ;  but  I  am 
afraid  it  will  be  of  little  use.* 

'  I  take  the  risk.  Monsieur  d'lvoy.* 

*  But  not  the  rating,  chevalier,*  and  the  secre- 
tary, with  a  half-smile  on  his  face,  went  out  and 
left  me  to  myself.     In  a  few  minutes  he  returned. 

*  The  duke  will  see  you,  monsieur — this  way, 
please.* 

'  Pardieu  !  *  I  muttered  to  myself  as  I  followed 
Ivoy,  *  he  keeps  as  much  state  as  if  he  were  the 
chancellor  himself.  However,  I  have  a  relish  for 
Monseigneur's  soup.* 

Ivoy  led  the  way  up  a  winding  staircase  of  oak, 
so  old  that  it  was  black  as  ebony,  and  polished  as 
glass.  At  the  end  of  this  was  a  landing,  where  a 
couple  of  lackeys  were  lounging  on  a  bench  be- 
fore a  closed  door.  They  sprang  up  at  our  ap- 
proach, and  Ivoy  tapped  gently  at  the  door. 

'  Come  in,*  was  the  answer,  given  in  a  cold 
voice,  and  the  next  moment  we  were  in  the  room. 

'  Monsieur  le  Chevalier  d*Auriac,*  and  Ivoy  had 
presented  me. 

Sully  inclined  his  head  frigidly  to  my  bow, 
and  then  motioned  to  Ivoy  to  retire.  When  we 
were  alone,  he  turned  to  me  with  a  brief  ^  Well  ?  * 

*  I  have  information  of  the  utmost  importance 
which  I  wish  to  lay  before  you.* 


THE  MASTER-GENERAL  139 

*  I  hear  that  ten  times  a  day  from  people.  Will 
your  story  take  long  to  tell  ?  * 

*  That  depends/ 

'  Then  be  seated  for  a  moment,  whilst  I  write  a 
note/ 

I  took  the  chair  he  pointed  out,  and  he  began 
to  write  rapidly.  Whilst  he  was  doing  this  I  had 
a  glance  round  the  room.  It  was  evidently  the 
duke's  working  cabinet,  and  it  bore  everywhere 
the  marks  of  the  prim  exactness  of  its  master's 
character.  There  was  no  litter  of  papers  on  the 
table.  The  huge  piles  of  correspondence  on  it 
were  arranged  neatly,  one  file  above  the  other. 
All  the  books  in  the  long  shelves  that  lined  the 
walls  were  numbered,  the  curtains  were  drawn 
back  at  exact  angles  to  the  curtain  poles,  the 
chairs  were  set  squarely,  there  was  not  a  thing 
out  of  place,  not  a  speck  of  dust,  not  a  blot  on  the 
brown  leather  writing-pad,  on  the  polished  wal- 
nut of  the  table  before  which  Sully  sat.  On  the 
wall  opposite  to  him  was  a  portrait  of  Madame  de 
Sully.  It  was  the  only  ornament  in  the  room. 
The  portrait  itself  showed  a  sprightly  -  looking 
woman  with  a  laughing  eye,  and  she  looked  down 
on  her  lord  and  master  from  the  painted  canvas 
with  a  merry  smile  on  her  slightly  parted  lips. 
As  for  the  man  himself,  he  sat  squarely  at  his 
desk,  writing  rapidly  with  an  even  motion  of  his 
pen.  He  was  plainly  but  richly  dressed,  without 
arms  of  any  kind.  His  collar  was  ruffed  in  the  Eng- 
lish fashion,  but  worn  with  a  droop,  over  which 
his  long  beard,  now  streaked  with  grey,  fell  almost 


I40  THE   CHEVALIER  D'AURIAC 

to  the  middle  of  his  breast.  He  was  bald,  and  on 
each  side  of  his  high,  wrinkled  forehead  there  was 
a  thin  wisp  of  hair,  brushed  neatly  back.  His  clear 
eyes  looked  out  coldly,  but  not  unkindly,  from 
under  the  dark,  arched  eyebrows,  and  his  short 
moustaches  were  carefully  trimmed  and  twisted 
into  two  points  that  stuck  out  one  on  each  side  of 
his  long  straight  nose.  The  mouth  itself  was 
small,  and  the  lips  were  drawn  together  tightly, 
not,  it  seemed,  naturally,  but  by  a  constant  habit 
that  had  become  second  nature.  It  was  as  if 
there  were  two  spirits  in  this  man.  One  a  genial 
influence  that  was  held  in  bonds  by  the  other,  a 
cold,  calculating,  intellectual  essence.  Such  was 
Maximilian  de  Bethune,  Marquis  de  Rosny  and 
Due  de  Sully.  He  was  not  yet  nominally  chief 
minister.  But  it  was  well  known  that  he  was  in 
the  King's  inmost  secrets,  and  that  there  was  no 
man  who  held  more  real  power  in  the  State  than 
the  Master-General  of  the  Ordnance.  As  I  fin- 
ished my  survey  of  him,  he  finished  his  despatch, 
and  after  folding  and  addressing  it  he  turned  it 
upside  down  and  said  to  me  : 

'  Now  for  your  important  news,  monsieur.  It 
must  be  very  important  to  have  brought  you 
here.* 

*  I  do  not  understand  ? ' 

He  looked  at  me,  a  keen  inquiry  in  his  glance. 
*  You  do  not  understand  ?  '  he  said. 

*  Indeed,  no,  monseigneur.* 

*  Hum  !  You  are  either  deeper  than  I  take  you 
to  be,  or  a  born  fool.     Look,  you,  are  you  not  Al- 


THE  MASTER-GENERAL  14 1 

ban  de  Breuil,  Sieur  d'Auriac,  who  was  lately  in 
arms  in  the  service  of  Spain  against  France  as  a 
rebel  and  a  traitor  ?  ' 

*  I  was  on  the  side  of  the  League.' 

*  Monsieur,  the  League  died  at  Ivry * 

*  But  not  for  us/ 

He  made  an  impatient  gesture.  *  We  won't 
discuss  that.  Are  you  not  the  man  I  refer  to? 
Say  yes  or  no.* 

*  I  am  d'Auriac — there  is  no  other  of  my  name 
— but  no  more  a  rebel  or  traitor  than  Messieurs 
de  Guise,  de  Mayenne,  and  others.  The  King's 
Peace  has  pardoned  us  all.  Why  should  I  fear  to 
come  to  you  ?  I  have  come  to  do  you  a  service, 
or  rather  the  King  a  service.' 

'  Thank  you.  May  I  ask  if  you  did  not  re- 
ceive a  warning  at  La  Fere,  and  another  at 
Bidache?' 

'  From  M.  d'Ayen — yes.  Monseigneur,  I  refuse 
to  believe  what  I  heard.' 

*  And  yet  your  name  heads  a  list  of  half  a  dozen 
whom  the  King's  Peace  does  not  touch.  One  of 
my  reasons  for  receiving  you  was  to  have  you  ar- 
rested.' 

*  It  is  a  high  honour,  all  this  bother  about  a 
poor  gentleman  of  Normandy,  when  Guise,  de 
Mayenne,  Epernon,  and  others  keep  their  skins 
whole.' 

'  You  have  flown  your  hawk  at  too  high  a  quar- 
ry, monsieur.' 

*Then  that  painted  ape,  d'Ayen,  told  a  true 
tale,'  I  burst  out  in  uncontrollable  anger.     '  Mon- 


142  THE   CHEVALIER   D'AURIAC 

seigneur,  do  what  you  will  to  me.    Remember  that 
you  help  to  the  eternal  dishonour  of  the  King.' 

The  words  hit  him,  and  the  blood  flushed  dark- 
ly under  the  pale  olive  of  the  man*s  cheek. 

*  Monsieur,  you  forget  yourself.' 

*  It  is  not  I,  but  you  who  do  so — you  who  forget 
that  your  name  is  Bethune.  Yes,  touch  that  bell. 
I  make  no  resistance.  I  presume  it  will  be  the 
Chatelet?' 

His  hand,  half  stretched  towards  the  button  of 
the  call-bell  before  him,  suddenly  stayed  itself. 

*Were  my  temper  as  hasty  as  your  tongue, 
monsieur,  it  would  have  been  the  Chatelet  in  half 
an  hour.' 

'  Better  that *  I  began,  but  he  interrupted 

me  with  a  quick  wave  of  his  hand. 

'  Monsieur  d'Auriac,  a  time  will  come  when  you 
will  have  reason  to  regret  the  words  you  have 
used  towards  me.  I  do  not  mean  regret  them  in 
the  place  you  have  mentioned,  but  in  your  heart. 
In  this  business  the  honour  of  Bethune  as  well  as 
the  honour  of  the  King  is  at  stake.  Do  you  think 
I  am  likely  to  throw  my  hazard  like  an  infant?' 

I  was  silent,  but  a  dim  ray  of  hope  flickered  up 
in  my  heart  as  I  looked  at  the  man  before  me, 
and  felt,  I  know  not  why,  in  the  glance  of  his  eye, 
in  the  tone  of  the  voice,  in  his  very  gestures,  that 
here  was  one  who  had  conquered  himself,  and 
who  knew  how  to  rule. 

*  Now,  sir,'  he  went  on,  the  animation  in  his 
tone  dropping  to  a  cold  and  frigid  note,  '  proceed 
with  your  tale.' 


THE  MASTER-GENERAL  143 

It  was  a  thing  easier  ordered  than  done,  but  I 
managed  it  somehow,  trying  to  be  as  brief  as  pos- 
sible, without  missing  a  point.  Sully  listened  with- 
out a  movement  of  his  stern  features,  only  his 
eyes  seemed  to  harden  like  crystal  as  I  spoke  of 
Biron  and  Zamet.  When  I  told  what  I  heard  of 
the  death  of  Madame  de  Beaufort,  he  turned  his 
head  to  the  open  window  and  kept  it  thus  until  I 
ended.  When  he  looked  back  again  at  me,  how- 
ever, there  was  not  a  trace  of  emotion  in  his 
features,  and  his  voice  was  as  cold  and  measured 
as  ever  as  he  asked : 

*And  your  reward  for  this  news,  chevalier?* 
'  Is  not  to  be  measured  in  pistoles,  monseigneur.' 

*  I  see ;  and  is  this  all  ?  * 

His  tone  chilled  me.  '  It  is  all — no,*  and  with  a 
sudden  thought,  *  give  me  twenty  men,  and  in  a 
week  I  put  the  traitors  in  your  hands.* 

He  fairly  laughed  out.  *  Corboeuf  I  Monsieur 
le  chevalier,  do  you  want  to  set  France  ablaze?* 

*  It  seems,  monseigneur,  that  the  torch  is  held 
at  Anet,'  I  answered  a  little  sulkily. 

*  But  not  lighted  yet ;  leave  the  dealing  with 
that  to  me.  And,  monsieur,  the  King  is  at  Fon- 
tainebleau,  and  for  a  month  nothing  can  be  done. 
And  see  here,  monsieur,  I  can  do  nothing  for  you  ; 
you  follow.  At  the  end  of  a  month  go  and  see 
the  King.  Tell  him  your  story,  and,  if  he  believes 
you,  claim  your  reward.  I  will  go  so  far  as  to 
promise  that  you  will  be  received.' 

All  the  little  hope  I  had  begun  to  gather  flut- 
tered away  at  these  words  like  a  scrap  of  paper 


144  THE  CHEVALIER  D'AURIAC 

cast  in  the  wind.  '  Monseigneur/  I  said,  and  my 
voice  sounded  strangely  even  to  my  own  ears,  '  in 
a  month  it  will  be  too  late/ 

'  Leave  that  to  me,'  he  answered.  *  I  have  a  re- 
minder always  before  my  eyes/  and  he  pointed 
through  the  open  window  in  the  direction  of  a 
house  that  towered  above  the  others  surround- 
ing it. 

*  I  do  not  follow,*  I  stammered. 

*  That  is  the  Hotel  de  Zamet,*  he  said  grimly, 
and  I  thought  I  understood  why  he  had  turned  to 
the  window  when  I  spoke  of  Madame  de  Beau- 
fort's death. 

I  rose  with  a  sigh  I  could  barely  repress:  *  Then 
there  is  nothing  for  me  to  do  but  to  wait?  * 

*  You  will  not  lose  by  doing  so.' 

*  I  thank  you,  monseigneur  ;  but  there  is  one 
little  favour  I  ask.' 

^Andthatis?' 

*  The  King's  Peace  until  I  see  the  King.' 

'  You  will  be  safer  in  the  Chatelet,  I  assure  you, 
but  as  you  wish — stay,  there  is  one  thing.  Not  a 
word  of  your  interview  with  me,  even  to  the  King.' 

My  hopes  rose  again.  '  On  my  faith  as  a  gen- 
tleman, I  will  not  mention  it.' 

As  I  finished  he  struck  his  bell  sharply  twice, 
and  Ivoy  entered. 

*  Ivoy,  do  me  the  favour  to  conduct  Monsieur 
d'Auriac  to  the  gates  yourself,  and  impress  upon 
him  the  necessity  of  keeping  to  his  lodging.  The 
air  of  Paris  out-of-doors  is  unhealthy  at  present. 
Good-day,  monsieur.' 


THE  MASTER-GENERAL  1 45 

Ivoy  bowed,  with  a  slight  upraising  of  his  eye- 
brows, and  we  passed  out.  Going  down  the  stair- 
way, he  said  to  me  with  a  smile:  *  I  see  you  dine 
at  home  to-day,  chevalier.' 

'  At  the  Two  Ecus,'  1  answered,  pretending  not 
to  understand  his  allusion,  and  he  chuckled  low 
to  himself.  At  the  gates  I  observed  that  the 
guards  were  doubled,  and  a  whispered  word 
passed  between  Ivoy  and  the  officer  in  command. 
But  of  this  also  I  took  no  notice,  and,  wishing 
them  the  day,  rode  back  as  I  came. 


10 


CHAPTER  X 

AN   OLD   FRIEND 

I  WAS  not  the  man  to  neglect  Sully's  warning, 
and,  besides,  there  was  an  added  reason  for  being 
careful  of  dark  corners,  as  both  Zamet  and  Lafin 
knew  me,  and  were  unlikely  to  lose  any  oppor- 
tunity of  doing  me  harm  that  might  come  their 
way.  I  could  do  nothing  but  wait  and  exercise 
patience  until  the  month  was  over,  and  it  was  a 
hard  enough  task.  Beyond  my  daily  visits  to  my 
ordinary,  I  went  nowhere  and  saw  no  one.  I  oc- 
casionally, of  course,  met  my  landlord  and  his  wife, 
but  few  words  passed  between  us,  and  Jacques 
had  become  marvellously  taciturn,  so  that  I  was 
alone  as  if  I  were  in  a  desert  in  that  vast  city, 
where  the  roar  of  the  day's  traffic  and  the  hum  of 
voices  seemed  to  vibrate  through,  and  possess  the 
stillest  hours  of  the  night.  Doubtless  there  were 
men  of  my  acquaintance  in  Paris,  but  I  did  not 
seek  them,  for  the  reasons  already  stated,  and  I 
lived  as  secluded  a  life  as  though  I  had  taken  the 
vows  of  a  hermit. 

In  the  meantime  I  was  more  than  anxious  that 
Jacques  should  execute  my  plan  in  regard  to 
Marie.     That  I  felt  was  a  debt  of  honour  to  my- 

146 


AN  OLD  FRIEND  147 

self ;  but  though  I  tried  the  threat  of  dismissal, 
he  refused  to  go  point  blank,  and  I  was  weak 
enough  to  allow  him  his  way.  It  was  one  of  the 
many  instances  in  which  my  firmness  of  temper 
failed,  but  it  is  not  possible  for  a  man  always  to 
keep  his  heart  in  a  Milan  corselet.  I  could  not 
make  out  Sully *s  reasons  for  his  action.  It 
seemed  to  me  that  he  had  got  all  my  information 
out  of  me  without  pledging  himself  to  anything 
in  return,  and  that  he  held  me  as  safely  as  a  cat 
does  a  wounded  mouse.  To  save  my  own  skin 
by  quitting  Paris  was  a  thought  I  can  honestly 
aver  that  never  came  to  me.  It  could  not,  with 
the  all-pervading  presence  of  my  love  for  Ma- 
dame. It  was  for  her  sake  I  was  here,  and  for 
her  sake  I  would  go  cheerfully  to  the  block  if  it 
need  be ;  but  it  would  not  be  without  a  try  to 
save  her,  and  if  the  worst  came  to  the  worst  I 
should  let  all  France  know  the  infamy  of  her 
King.  The  hero-worship  I  had  in  my  heart  for 
him  had  given  place  to  a  bitter  hatred  for  the  man 
who  was  using  his  power  to  drive  a  woman  to 
ruin,  and  inflict  upon  me  the  most  bitter  sorrow. 
All  this  may  sound  foolish,  but  such  was  my 
frame  of  mind,  and  I  was  yet  to  know  how  great 
the  man  was  whom  I  hated — but  of  that  on  an- 
other day.  In  the  meantime  there  was  no  news 
from  Bidache,  and  I  was  kept  on  the  cross  with 
anxiety  lest  some  danger  had  befallen  my  dear 
one  there.  Anet  was  not  three  hours*  ride  away, 
and  at  Anet  was  de  Gomeron,  unless  indeed  the 
conspirators  had  scattered,  as  was  not  at  all  un- 


148  THE   CHEVALIER  D'AURIAC 

likely,  after  the  manner  in  which  they  had  been 
discovered.  My  doubts  in  regard  to  Madame*s 
safety  were  set  at  rest  about  three  weeks  after  my 
interview  with  Sully.  One  evening  Pantin 
knocked  at  my  door,  and,  on  my  bidding  him 
enter,  came  in  with  many  apologies  for  disturb- 
ing me. 

'  But,  chevalier,*  he  added,  *  I  have  news  that 
Monsieur  will  no  doubt  be  glad  to  hear.' 

'  Then  let  me  have  it,  Maitre  Pantin,  for  good 
news  has  been  a  stranger  to  me  for  long.' 

'  It  is  this.  Our  friend  Palin  arrives  in  Paris 
to-morrow  or  the  day  after.' 

'  And  stays  here  ? ' 

'  No,  for  he  comes  in  attendance  on  Madame  de 
la  Bidache,  and  will  doubtless  live  at  the  Rue 
Varenne.' 

I  half  turned  for  a  moment  to  the  window  to 
hide  the  expression  of  joy  on  my  face  I  could  not 
conceal  otherwise.  Were  it  daylight  I  might 
have  been  able  to  see  the  trees  in  the  gardens 
of  the  Rue  Varenne ;  but  it  was  night,  and  the 
stars  showed  nothing  beyond  the  white  spectral 
outline  of  the  Tour  de  Nesle  beyond  the  Ma- 
laquais. 

'  Indeed,  I  am  glad  to  hear  this,'  I  said  as  I 
looked  round  once  more ;  '  though  Paris  will  be 
dull  for  Madame.' 

*  Not  so,  monsieur,  for  the  King  comes  back  to- 
morrow, and  the  gossips  say  that  before  another 
fortnight  is  out  there  will  be  another  maitresse  en 
titre  2X  the  Louvre,     del!     How  many  of  them 


AN  OLD  FRIEND  149 

there  have  been,  from  poor  La  Fosseuse  to  the 
D'Estrees; 

*  Maitre  Pantin,  I  forgot  myself — will  you  help 
yourself  to  the  Frontignac  ?  * 

'  A  hundred  thanks,  monsieur  le  chevalier.  Is 
there  any  message  for  Palin  ?  Pouf !  But  I  for- 
get. What  has  a  handsome  young  spark  like  you 
got  in  common  with  an  old  greybeard  ?  You 
will  be  at  court  in  a  week ;  and  they  will  all  be 
there — bright-eyed  D'Entragues,  Mary  of  Guise, 
Charlotte  de  Givry,  and ' 

*  Maitre  Pantin,  these  details  of  the  court  do 
not  interest  me.  Tell  Palin  I  would  see  him  as 
soon  as  he  arrives.  Ask  him  as  a  favour  to  come 
here.     He  said  you  were  discreet ' 

'  And  I  know  that  Monsieur  le  Chevalier  is 
likewise.*  With  a  quick  movement  of  the  hand 
the  short  grey  goatee  that  Pantin  wore  vanished 
from  his  chin,  and  there  was  before  me  not  the 
face  of  the  notary,  but  that  of  Annette.  She 
laughed  out  at  the  amaze  in  my  look,  but  quickly 
changed  her  tone. 

'  Maitre  Palin  said  you  were  to  be  trusted  ut- 
terly, monsieur,  and  you  see  I  have  done  so. 
Your  message  will  be  safely  delivered,  and  I 
promise  he  will  see  you.    But  have  you  no  other  ?  * 

'  None,'  I  answered,  a  little  bitterly. 

'  I  have,  however,  and  it  is  this,'  and  she  placed 
in  my  hand  a  little  packet.  '  Monsieur  may  open 
that  at  his  leisure,'  and  she  turned  as  if  to  go. 

*  One  moment — I  do  not  understand.  What  is 
the  meaning  of  this  masquerade  ?  ' 


ISO  THE   CHEVALIER  D'AURIAC 

'  Only  this,  that  my  husband  will  appear  to 
have  been  at  the  same  time  at  the  Quartier  du 
Marais  as  well  as  the  Faubourg  St.  Germain.  I 
would  add  that  Monsieur  would  be  wise  to  keep 
indoors  as  he  is  doing.  We  have  found  out  that 
the  house  is  being  watched.  Good-night,  mon- 
sieur,' and,  with  a  nod  of  her  wrinkled  face,  this 
strange  woman  vanished. 

I  appeared  in  truth  to  be  the  sport  of  mystery, 
and  it  seemed  as  if  one  of  those  sudden  gusts  of 
anger  to  which  I  was  subject  w^as  coming  on  me. 
I  controlled  myself  with  an  effort,  and  with  a 
turn  of  my  fingers  tore  open  the  packet,  and  in  it 
lay  my  lost  knot  of  ribbon.  For  a  moment  the 
room  swam  round  me,  and  I  became  as  cold  as 
ice.  Then  came  the  revulsion,  and  with  trem- 
bling fingers  I  raised  the  token  to  my  lips  and 
kissed  it  a  hundred  times.  There  were  no  writ- 
ten w^ords  with  it ;  there  was  nothing  but  this  lit- 
tle worn  bow  !  but  it  told  a  whole  story  to  me.  It 
had  come  down  to  me,  that  ribbon  that  Marescot 
said  was  hung  too  high  for  de  Breuil  of  Auriac ; 
and  God  alone  knows  how  I  swore  to  guard  it, 
and  how  my  heart  thanked  him  for  his  goodness 
to  me.  For  ten  long  minutes  I  was  in  fairyland, 
and  then  I  saw  myself  as  I  was,  proscribed  and 
poor,  almost  in  the  hands  of  powerful  enemies, 
striving  to  fight  an  almost  hopeless  cause  with 
nothing  on  my  side  and  everything  against  me. 
Even  were  it  otherwise,  the  rock  of  Auriac  was 
too  bare  to  link  with  the  broad  lands  of  Pelouse 
and  Bidache,  and,  love  her  as  I  did,  I  could  never 


AN  OLD  FRIEND  IS  I 

hang  my  sword  in  my  wife's  halls.  It  was  im- 
possible, utterly  impossible.  So  I  was  tossed  now 
one  way,  now  another,  until  my  mental  agony 
was  almost  insupportable. 

The  next  day  nothing  would  content  me  but 
that  I  must  repair  to  the  Rue  Varenne,  and,  if 
possible,  get  a  glimpse  of  Madame  as  she  arrived. 
I  left  instructions  that  Palin  should  be  asked  to 
wait  for  me  if  he  came  during  my  absence ;  for 
my  impatience  was  too  great  to  admit  of  my  stay- 
ing in  for  him.  I  was  not,  however,  in  so  great  a 
hurry  as  to  entirely  neglect  the  warnings  I  had 
received,  and  dressed  myself  as  simply  as  possi- 
ble, removing  the  plumes  from  my  hat,  and  wear- 
ing a  stout  buff  coat  under  my  long  cloak.  Thus 
altered  I  might  be  mistaken  for  a  Huguenot,  but 
hardly  anyone  would  look  for  a  former  cavalier 
of  the  League  in  the  solemnly-dressed  man  who 
was  strolling  to  the  end  of  the  Malaquais.  There 
I  took  a  boat  and  went  by  river  the  short  distance 
that  lay  between  me  and  the  jetty  at  the  Rue  de 
Bac.  At  the  jetty  I  disembarked,  and  went  lei- 
surely towards  the  Rue  Varenne.  As  I  was  cross- 
ing the  Rue  Grenelle,  hard  by  the  Logis  de 
Conde,  a  half-dozen  gentlemen  came  trotting  by 
and  took  up  the  road.  I  stopped  to  let  them  pass, 
and  saw  to  my  surprise  that  amongst  them  were 
my  old  comrades  in  arms,  de  Cosse-Brissac,  Ta- 
vannes,  and  de  Gie.  I  was  about  to  wave  my 
hand  in  greeting,  when  I  recognised  amongst 
them  the  sinister  face  of  Lafin  riding  on  the  far 
side  of   me.     Quick  as   thought  I   pretended  to 


IS2  THE   CHEVALIER  D'AURIAC 

have  dropped  something,  and  bent  down  as  if  to 
search  for  it.  The  pace  they  were  going  at  pre- 
vented anyone  of  them,  not  even  excepting  Lafin, 
with  his  hawk's  eye,  from  recognising  me ;  but  it 
did  not  prevent  Tavannes  from  turning  in  his 
saddle  and  flinging  me  a  piece  of  silver  with  the 
gibe,  '  Go  on  all  fours  for  that,  maitre  Huguenot/ 
I  kept  my  head  low,  and  made  a  rush  for  the  sil- 
ver, whilst  they  rode  off  laughing,  a  laugh  in 
which  I  joined  myself,  though  with  different  rea- 
sons. On  reaching  the  Rue  Varenne  I  had  no 
difficulty  in  finding  the  house  I  sought ;  the  arms 
on  the  entrance  gate  gave  me  this  information  ; 
and  I  saw  that  Madame  had  only  just  arrived, 
and  had  I  been  but  a  half-hour  earlier  I  might 
have  seen  and  even  spoken  with  her.  I  hung 
about  for  some  minutes  on  the  chance  of  getting 
a  glimpse  of  her,  with  no  success ;  then  finding 
that  my  lounging  backwards  and  forwards  out- 
side the  gates  was  beginning  to  attract  attention 
from  the  windows  of  a  house  opposite,  I  took  my- 
self off,  feeling  a  little  foolish  at  what  I  had  done. 
I  came  back  the  way  I  went,  and  as  I  walked 
down  the  Malaquais  met  master  Jacques  taking 
an  airing  with  two  companions.  In  one  of  them 
I  recognised  Vallon,  my  old  friend  de  Belin's 
man ;  the  other  I  did  not  know,  though  he  wore 
the  sang'de-bceuf  livery  of  the  Compte  de  Belin. 
Having  no  particular  interest  in  lackeys  I  paid 
him  no  further  attention,  though,  could  I  but 
have  seen  into  the  future,  it  would  have  been  a 
good  deed  to  have  killed  him  where  he  stood. 


AN   OLD  FRIEND  153 

On  seeing  me  Vallon  and  Jacques  both  stopped, 
and  I  signalled  to  them  to  cross  over  the  road  to 
me,  as  I  was  anxious  to  hear  news  of  Belin,  who 
was  an  intimate  friend.  This  they  did,  and  on 
my  inquiry  Vallon  informed  me  that  Belin  was  at 
his  hotel  in  the  Rue  de  Bourdonnais,  and  the 
good  fellow  urged  me  to  come  there  at  once,  say- 
ing that  his  master  would  never  forgive  him  were 
he  not  to  insist  on  my  coming.  I  was  truly  glad 
to  hear  Belin  was  in  Paris.  He  was  a  tried  friend, 
whose  assistance  I  could  rely  on  in  any  emer- 
gency ;  and,  telling  Vallon  I  would  be  at  the  Rue 
de  Bourdonnais  shortly,  I  went  on  to  my  lodging, 
followed  by  Jacques,  leaving  Vallon  to  go  onwards 
with  his  companion. 

On  coming  home  I  found,  as  might  be  expected, 
that  there  was  no  sign  of  Palin,  and,  after  waiting 
for  him  until  the  dinner  hour,  gave  him  up  for  the 
present  and  rode  off  to  the  Two  Ecus ;  and  when 
my  dinner,  a  very  simple  one,  was  finished,  took 
my  way  to  the  Rue  de  Bourdonnais,  this  time 
mounted  on  Couronne,  with  Jacques,  well  armed, 
on  the  sorrel. 

The  hotel  of  the  Compte  de  Belin  lay  at  the 
west  end  of  the  Rue  de  Bourdonnais,  close  to  the 
small  house  wherein  lived  Madame  de  Mont- 
pensier  of  dreadful  memory  ;  and  on  reaching  it  I 
found  that  it  more  than  justified  the  description 
Belin  had  given  of  it  to  me,  one  day  whilst  we 
were  idling  in  the  trenches  before  Dourlens.  It 
stood  some  way  back  from  the  road,  and  the  en- 
trance to  the  courtyard  was  through  a  wonder- 


154  THE  CHEVALIER  D'AURIAC 

fully  worked  iron  gateway,  a  counterpart,  though 
on  a  smaller  scale,  of  the  one  at  Anet.  At  each 
corner  of  the  square  building  was  a  hanging 
turret,  and  from  the  look  of  the  windows  of  one 
of  these  I  guessed  that  my  friend  had  taken  up 
his  quarters  there. 

I  was  met  by  Vallon,  who  said  he  had  informed 
his  master  of  my  coming;  and,  telling  a  servant 
to  hold  my  horse,  he  ushered  me  in,  talking  of  a 
hundred  things  at  once.  I  had  not  gone  ten  steps 
up  the  great  stairway  when  Belin  himself  ap- 
peared, running  down  to  meet  me.  *  Croix  Dieu  !  ' 
he  burst  out  as  we  embraced.  '  I  thought  you 
were  with  the  saints,  and  that  de  Rone,  you  and 
a  hundred  others  were  free  from  all  earthly 
troubles.' 

'  Not  yet,  de  Belin.  I  trust  that  time  will  be 
far  distant.* 

*  Amen !  But  you  as  good  as  buried  yourself 
alive,  at  any  rate.* 

*How  so?* 

*  Vallon  tells  me  you  have  been  a  month  in 
Paris,  and  you  have  never  once  been  to  the  Rue 
de  Bourdonnais  until  now.  You  might  have 
known,  man,  that  this  house  is  as  much  yours  as 
mine.* 

*  My  dear  friend,  there  were  reasons.* 

He  put  a  hand  on  each  of  my  shoulders,  looked 
at  me  in  the  face  with  kind  eyes,  and  then  laughed 
out. 

*  Reasons !  Pardieu  !  I  can  hardly  make  you 
out.     You  have  a  face  a  half-toise  in  length,  never 


AN  OLD  FRIEND  155 

a  plume  in  your  hat,  and  a  general  look  of  those 
hard-praying  and,  I  will  say,  hard-fighting  gentry 
who  gave  the  King  his  own  again/ 

*  How  loyal  you  have  become.' 

'  We  were  all  wrong — the  lot  of  us — and  I  own 
my  mistake  ;  but  you — you  have  not  turned  Hu- 
guenot, have  you  ?  * 

'  Not  yet,'  I  smiled  ;  *  and  is  Madame  de  Belin 
in  Paris  ? ' 

'  Diablef  and  he  made  a  wry  face.  *  Come  up 
to  my  den,  and  FU  tell  you  everything.  Vallon, 
you  grinning  ape,  fetch  a  flask  of  our  old  Cham- 
bertin — I  will  show  M.  le  Chevalier  up  myself.' 

And  linking  me  by  the  arm,  he  led  me  up  the 
stairway,  and  along  a  noble  corridor  hung  on  each 
side  with  the  richest  tapestry,  until  we  reached  a 
carved  door  that  opened  into  the  rooms  in  the 
turret. 

'  Here  we  are,'  Belin  said,  as  we  entered.  *  I 
find  that  when  Madame  is  away  these  rooms  are 
enough  for  me.  Tiens !  How  a  woman's  pre- 
sence can  fill  a  house.  Sit  down  there  !  And  here 
comes  Vallon.  Set  the  wine  down  there,  Vallon, 
and  leave  us.' 

He  poured  out  a  full  measure  for  me,  then  one 
for  himself,  and  stretched  himself  out  in  an  arm- 
chair, facing  me.  I  always  liked  the  man,  with  his 
gay  cynicism — if  I  may  use  the  phrase — his  kind 
heart  and  his  reckless  life ;  and  I  knew  enough  to 
tell  that  if  Madame  la  Comptesse  had  been  a  little 
more  forbearing  she  might  have  moulded  her  hus- 
band as  she  willed. 


156  THE   CHEVALIER  D'AURIAC 

*  Belin,'  I  said, '  I  am  so  old  a  friend,  I  know  you 
will  forgive  me  for  asking  why,  if  you  miss 
Madame's  presence,  you  do  not  have  her  here  ?  * 

*  Oh,  she  has  got  one  of  her  fits,  and  has  gone 
to  grow  pears  at  Belin.  It  was  all  through  that 
fool  Vallon; 

'  Vallon ! ' 

*  Yes.  Bassompierre,  de  Vitry,  myself,  and  one 
or  two  others,  had  arranged  a  little  supper,  with 
cards  to  follow,  at  More's.  You  don't  know 
More's,  but  FU  take  you  there.  Well,  to  continue  : 
I  had  gone  through  about  three  weeks  of  my  own 
fireside  before  this  arrangement  was  made,  and 
longed  to  stretch  my  legs  a  little.  To  tell  Sophie 
would  only  cause  a  discussion.  It  is  as  much  as  I 
can  do  to  get  her  to  the  Louvre  accompanied  by 
myself.  So  when  the  evening  arrived  I  pleaded 
urgent  business  over  my  steward's  accounts,  and, 
giving  orders  that  I  was  not  to  be  disturbed 
under  any  circumstances,  came  here  to  my  study, 
a  duplicate  key  to  the  door  of  which  Sophie 
keeps.  I  put  Vallon  in  that  chair  there  before  the 
writing-table,  after  having  made  him  throw  on  my 
robe-de-chambre,  and  gave  him  instructions  to  wave 
his  hand  in  token  that  he  was  not  to  be  disturbed 
if  Madame  la  Comptesse  came  in,  and,  after 
thoroughly  drilling  the  rascal,  vanished  by  the 
private  stair — the  entrance  to  that  is  just  behind 
my  wife's  portrait  there.' 

*  And  then?' 

*  Well,  we  had  as  pleasant  an  evening  as  might 
be  expected.     I    won   five   hundred   pistoles  and 


AN  OLD  FRIEND  157 

came  home  straight  to  my  study,  and  on  entering 
it  imagine  my  feelings  on  seeing  Sophie  there — 
and  you  can  guess  the  rest/ 

*Poor  devil,'  I  laughed,  'so  your  little  plan 
failed  utterly/ 

'  Vallon  failed  utterly.  It  appears  that  Sophie 
came  up  about  ten,  and,  being  waved  off,  went 
away.  She  returned,  however,  about  an  hour 
later  to  find  Monsieur  Vallon,  who  had  got  tired 
of  his  position,  asleep  with  his  mouth  open  in  the 
chair  in  which  you  are  sitting.  She  refused  to 
believe  it  was  only  a  card  party — though  I  said  I 
would  call  the  Marshal  and  de  Vitry  to  witness — 
burst  into  tears,  and  in  fine,  my  friend,  I  had  a  bad 
quarter  of  an  hour,  and  Sophie  has  gone  off  to 
Belin/ 

*  And  the  pistoles?  *  I  asked  slily. 

He  looked  at  me,  and  we  both  laughed. 

*  She  took  them,'  he  answered. 

*  Belin,'  I  said  after  a  moment,  *  will  you  ever 
change  ? ' 

'  Ventre  St,  Gris  !  As  the  King  swears.  Why 
should  I  ?  After  all,  Sophie  will  come  round 
again.  I  really  am  very  happy.  I  have  many 
things  to  be  thankful  for.  I  can  always  help  a 
friend ' 

'  I  know  that,'  I  interrupted,  'and  I  want  your 
help.' 

*  How  much  is  it  ?     Or  is  it  a  second  ? ' 

*  Neither,  thanks.  Though  in  either  case  I 
would  come  to  you  without  hesitation.  The  fact 
is — '  and  I  explained  to  him  my  difficulty  in  pro- 


155  THE  CHEVALIER  D'AURIAC 

viding  for  Marie,  without,  however,  going  into 
other  matters,  or  giving  him  any  account  of  my 
troubles. 

When  I  ended,  Belin  said.  '  What  you  want, 
then,  is  a  trustworthy  fellow/ 

'  At  least  that  is  what  Jacques  wants.  I  can  get 
on  well  enough.* 

'  Morbleul  It  is  more  than  I  could;  but,  as  it 
happens,  T  have  the  very  thing  for  you.  Pull  that 
bell-rope  behind  you,  will  you  ?  and  oblige  a  lazy 
man.* 

I  did  so,  and  in  a  minute  or  so  Vallon  appeared, 
wiping  his  mouth  suspiciously  with  the  back  of 
his  hand. 

'  Vallon,*  said  de  Belin,  *  does  RavaiUac  continue 
to  work  satisfactorily  ?.* 

'  As  ever,  monsieur  le  compte.* 

*  Well,  I  am  going  to  lend  him  to  the  Chevalier, 
who  has  need  of  his  services.* 

'  Monsieur.* 

*  Send  him  up  here,  and  Bisson,  too.* 
Vallon  bowed  and  vanished,  as  I  said, 

*  I  do  not  know  how  to  thank  you,  Belin.* 

^  Pouf !  A  mere  bagatelle.  I  thought  we  were 
going  to  have  a  little  amusement  in  the  gardens  of 
the  Tuileries.  I  know  of  a  perfect  spot  for  a  meet- 
ing— (^a  !  ga  !  *  and  he  lunged  twice  in  quarte  at  an 
imaginary  adversary.  As  he  came  back  from  the 
second  thrust,  he  said,  *  By  the  way,  I  must  tell 
you — but  here  they  are,*  and  Ravaillac  came  in, 
followed  by  Jacques,  Vallon  bringing  up  the  rear. 

As  they  entered  I  recognised  in  Ravaillac  the 


AN  OLD  FRIEND  1 59 

man  who  was  with  Jacques  and  Vallon  on  the 
Malaquais,  and  Belin,  turning  to  Jacques,  said 
quietly :  '  Bisson,  I  am  going  to  lend  Ravaillac 
here  to  your  master,  to  take  your  place  whilst  you 
go  away  to  Ezy.  I  pledge  you  my  word  that  he 
is  a  good  sword.' 

'  True  enough,  monsieur  le  compte ;  we  were 
amusing  ourselves  with  a  pass  or  two  below,  and 
he  touched  me  twice  to  my  once,  and,  as  your 
lordship  answers  for  him,  I  am  content.' 

*  That  is  well,  most  excellent  Bisson  !  Ravail- 
lac, you  understand  ?  Here  is  the  Chevalier 
d'Auriac,  your  new  master,  who  will  remain  such 
until  he  sends  you  back  to  me/ 

Ravaillac  bowed  without  reply.  He  was  quite 
young,  barely  twenty,  and  very  tall  and  thin  ;  yet 
there  was  great  breadth  of  shoulder,  and  I  noticed 
that  he  had  the  framework  of  a  powerful  man : 
his  appearance  was  much  beyond  that  of  his  class, 
but  there  was  a  sullen  ferocity  in  his  pale  face — 
the  eyes  were  set  too  close  together,  and  the 
mouth  too  large  and  straightly  cut  to  please  me. 
Nevertheless,  I  was  practically  bound  to  accept 
Belin's  recommendation,  and  after  a  few  orders 
were  given,  the  men  were  dismissed. 

'  What  was  I  about  to  say  before  these  men 
came  in  ?  '  ask-ed  Belin. 

'  I'm  afraid  I  cannot  help.* 

'  Of  course  not — oh,  yes  !  I  recollect.  I  was 
about  to  tell  you  how  I  got  Ravaillac's  service. 
I  lay  you  five  crowns  to  a  tester  you  would  never 
guess.* 


I60  THE   CHEVALIER   D'AURIAC 

*  You  have  already  told  me  with  your  wager. 
You  must  have  won  him/ 

*  Exactly.  You've  hit  it,  and  it  was  in  this  way. 
About  three  months  ago  I  was  returning  to  Paris 
attended  but  by  Vallon,  and  with  only  a  small 
sum  with  me.  At  an  inn  at  Neuilly  I  met  an  ac- 
quaintance, a  Baron  d'Ayen,  one  of  the  last  of  the 
mignons,  and  a  confirmed  gambler.' 

*  I  know  him,*  I  said,  my  heart  beginning  to 
beat  faster  at  the  very  thought  of  d'Ayen. 

*  Then  it  makes  the  story  more  interesting. 
We  dined  together,  and  then  had  a  turn  at  the 
dice,  with  the  result  that  d'Ayen  won  every  ecu 
that  I  had. 

* "  It  w^ould  be  a  pity  to  stop  now,"  he  said,  as  I 
rose,  declaring  myself  broken.  "  Suppose  we  play 
for  your  horse,  compte  ?*" 

* "  No,  thanks,"  I  replied  ;  ''  luck  is  against  me, 
and  I  have  no  mind  to  foot  it  to  my  hotel.  But 
I'll  tell  you  what,  I  have  rather  taken  a  fancy  to 
your  man,  since  I  once  saw  him  handle  a  rapier. 
I'll  lay  Vallon  against  him  ;  what  do  you  call 
him?" 

' "  Ravaillac.  He  is  of  Anjouleme,  and  has 
been  a  Flagellant.     Will  he  suit  you  ?  " 

' ''  I  shall  have  to  find  that  out.  Do  you  accept 
the  stakes?  " 

' ''  Mon  ami,  I  would  play  for  my  soul  in  this 
cursed  inn." 

«  "  Very  well,  then — throw." 

'  The  upshot  of  it  was  that  I  won,  and  from  that 
moment   the   blind   goddess   smiled  on  me,  and 


AN   OLD   FRIEND  l6l 

after  another  hour's  play  I  left  d'Ayen  with  noth- 
ing but  the  clothes  he  stood  in.  What  he  re- 
gretted most  was  the  loss  of  his  valise,  in  which 
lay  some  cosmetiques  he  valued  beyond  price: 
he  got  them  from  Coiffier.  I  earned  his  undying 
friendship  by  giving  him  back  his  valise,  lent  him 
his  horse,  which  I  had  won,  and  came  off  with 
fifty  pistoles  and  a  new  man.  Of  course,  you 
know  that  d'Ayen  has  fallen  on  his  feet?  * 
'  I  do  not.' 

*  I'll  tell  you.  Where  the  devil  have  you  been 
burying  yourself  all  these  months  ?  You  must 
know  that  the  King  is  looking  forward  for  another 
Liancourt  for  a  lady  whom  he  destines  for  a  very 
high  place,  and  d'Ayen  is  to  be  the  happy  man. 
It  is  an  honour  he  fully  appreciates,  and  he  has 
been  kind  enough  to  ask  me  to  stand  as  one  of  his 
sponsors  at  the  wedding,  which  by  the  King's  or- 
ders comes  off  in  a  fortnight.'' 

'  And  you  have  promised  ?' 

*  Yes,  it  was  a  little  amusement.  They  say, 
however,  that  Madame  is  furious,  and  that  her 
temper  is  worse  than  that  of  Mademoiselle  d'En- 
tragues — who,  by  the  way,  literally  flung  herself 
at  the  King,  without  avail.  Her  time  will  come 
soon  enough,  no  doubt — but,  good  gracious,  man! 
what  is  the  matter?     You  are  white  as  a  sheet.' 

*  It  is  nothing,  Belin — yes,  it  is  more  than  I  can 
bear.  Belin,  old  friend,  is  there  nothing  that  can 
save  this  lady  ? ' 

He  looked  at  me  and  whistled  low  to  himself. 
*  Sets  the  wind  that  way?     I  did  not  know  you 

li 


1 62  THE   CHEVALIER  D'AURIAC 

had  even  heard  of  the  lily  of  Bidache.  Are  you 
hard  hit,  d'Auriac?'  And  he  rose  from  his  seat 
and  put  a  kind  hand  on  my  shoulder. 

I  jumped  up  furiously.  *  Belin,  I  tell  you  I  will 
stop  this  infamy  if  I  die  for  it !  I  swear  before 
God  that  I  will  kill  that  man,  king  though  he  be, 
like  a  mad  dog * 

'  Be  still,'  he  said.  *  What  bee  has  stung  you  ? 
You  and  I,  d'Auriac,  come  of  houses  too  old  to 
play  the  assassin.  Croix  Dieu^  man  !  Will  you 
sully  your  shield  with  murder  ?  There,  drink  that 
wine  and  sit  down  again.  That's  right.  You  do 
not  know  what  you  say.  I  have  fought  against 
the  King,  and  I  serve  him  now,  and  I  tell  you, 
d'Auriac,  he  is  the  greatest  of  Frenchmen.  And 
there  is  yet  hope.  Remember,  a  fortnight  is  a 
fortnight.' 

I  ground  my  teeth  in  silent  agony. 

'  Wait  a  moment,'  he  continued  ;  '  a  chamber- 
lain of  the  court  knows  most  of  its  secrets,  and  I 
can  tell  you  that  it  is  not  such  plain  sailing  as  you 
think  for  d'Ayen.  The  death  of  that  unhappy 
Gabrielle  has  affected  the  King  much.  He  is  but 
now  beginning  to  recover,  and  Biron,  who  was 
hurrying  to  his  government  of  Burgundy,  has 
been  ordered  to  remain  in  close  attendance  on  the 
King.  Whether  Biron  knew  of  the  King's  inten- 
tions or  not,  I  do  not  know  ;  but  he  has  strongly 
urged  the  suit  of  one  of  his  gentlemen  for  the 
hand  of  Madame — it  is  that  croquemort  de  Go- 
meron,  with  all  his  faults  a  stout  soldier.  It  is  said 
that  the  Marshal  has  even  pressed  de  Gomeron's 


AN  OLD  FRIEND  1 63 

suit  with  Madame,  and  that  rather  than  marry 
d'Ayen,  and  clinging  to  any  chance  for  escape, 
she  has  agreed  to  fall  in  with  his  views.  This  I 
heard  from  the  Vidame  and  the  Chevalier  de 
Lafin — good  enough  authority/ 

'  One  alternative  is  as  bad  as  the  other.' 

*  There  is  no  satisfying  some  people.  Why, 
man !  don't  you  see  it  would  be  the  best  thing  in 
the  world  for  you  if  it  was  settled  in  favour  of 
our  friend  from  the  Camargue.' 

*  That  low-born  scoundrel  ? ' 

*  Mon  ami^  we  don't  know  anything  about  that. 
Give  the  devil  his  due  ;  he  is  a  better  man  than 
d'Ayen.  I  know  there  is  ill  blood  between  you, 
and  wonder  that  some  has  not  been  spilt  before 
now.' 

'  There  will  be,  by  God  !  before  this  is  ended  ! ' 

*  Tenez  !  Let  but  the  King  agree  to  de  Gome- 
ron's  suit — and  he  is  hard  pressed,  I  telT  you,  for 
Sully  even  is  on  Biron's  side  in  this  matter,  and 
after  that ' 

^  What?' 

*  Henry's  mind  will  have  turned  another  way. 
There  are  many  who  would  like  to  play  queen, 
and  few  like  Mesdames  de  Guercheville  and 
Bidache.' 

*  But  in  any  case,  Belin,  I  lose  the  game.' 

*  You  have  become  very  clever  in  your  retreat^ 
my  friend.  You  win  your  game  if  de  Gomeron 
is  accepted ;  and  then ' 

'And  then,  my  wise  adviser?' 

'  She  need  not  marry  the  Camarguer.     You  can 


1 64  THE   CHEVALIER  D'AURIAC 

run  him  through  under  the  limes  in  the  Tuileries, 
wed  Madame,  and  grow  cabbages  at  Auriac  ever 
after.     Pouf !     The  matter  is  simple  !' 

Miserable  as  I  was,  I  fairly  laughed  out  at  Be- 
lin's  plot.  Nevertheless,  the  hopefulness  of  the 
man,  his  cheery  tone  and  happy  spirit,  had  their 
effect  upon  me,  and  if  it  turned  out  that  the  King 
was  wavering,  there  was  more  than  a  straw  of 
hope  floating  down-stream  to  me.  My  courage 
grew  also  when  I  put  together  Sully's  words  with 
Belin's  news  that  Biron  was  detained  by  the  side 
of  the  King.  It  surely  meant  that  this  was  done 
to  prevent  the  Marshal  doing  mischief  elsewhere. 
If  so,  I  was  nevertheless  on  the  horns  of  a  dilem- 
ma, for  by  telling  of  the  plot  I  would,  if  my  story 
were  believed,  make  matters  hopeless,  and  ad- 
vance d'Ayen's  cause,  to  the  misery  of  the  woman 
I  loved. 

On  the  other  hand,  by  keeping  silent  I  was  in  an 
equally  hard  position.  My  pledge  to  Sully  pre- 
vented me  from  taking  Belin  fully  into  my  confi- 
dence, and,  hardly  knowing  what  I  was  doing,  I 
poured  myself  out  another  full  goblet  of  the  Cham- 
bertin,  and  drained  it  at  a  draught. 

'  Excellent,'  said  Belin.  '  There  is  nothing  like 
Burgundy  to  steady  the  mind ;  in  another  mo- 
ment you  will  be  yourself  again,  and  think  as  I  do 
in  this  matter.  Courage,  man  !  Pick  your  heart 
up  !    A  fortnight  is  a  devil  of  a  long  time,  and ' 

'  Monsieur  le  Baron  d'Ayen,'  and  Vallon  threw 
open  the  door,  and  at  its  entrance  stood  the  cold- 
blooded instrument  of  the  King.    He  looked  older 


AN  OLD  FRIEND  165 

and  more  shrivelled  than  ever,  but  the  paint  was 
bright  upon  his  cheeks,  his  satin  surcoat  and 
puffed  breeches  were  fresh  from  the  tailor's,  and 
his  hat,  which  he  carried  in  his  left  hand,  was 
plumed  with  three  long  crimson  marabout  fea- 
thers, held  in  a  jewelled  clasp. 

'  My  dear  de  Belin,'  he  said,  bowing  low,  '  I 
trust  my  visit  is  not  inopportune?  I  had  no  idea 
you  were  engaged.' 

*  Never  more  welcome,  baron.  I  think  Monsieur 
le  Chevalier  is  known  to  you  ;  sit  down  and  help 
yourself  to  the  Chambertin.' 

D'Ayen  bowed  slightly  to  me,  but  I  took  no 
notice,  and  rose  to  depart. 

*  I  will  say  good  day,  Belin,  and  many  thanks 
for  what  you  have  done.* 

*  Do  not  retire  on  my  account,  monsieur  le  che- 
valier,' said  d'Ayen  in  his  mocking  voice.  '  I  come 
to  give  news  to  my  friend  here,  which  will  doubt- 
less interest  you.  The  fact  is,  his  Majesty  insists 
on  my  marriage  taking  place  as  soon  as  possible, 
and  has  given  instructions  for  the  chapel  in  the 
Louvre  to  be  prepared  for  the  ceremony.  You 
still  hold  good  to  your  promise  of  being  one  of. 
my  sponsors,  de  Belin  ?' 

'  If  the  wedding  comes  off — certainly.' 

*  Ha  !  ha  !  If  it  comes  off  !  I  would  ask  you 
too,  monsieur,'  and  he  turned  to  me,  *  but  I  know 
you  have  pressing  business  elsewhere.* 

*  Whatever  my  business  may  be,  monsieur,  there 
is  one  thing  I  must  attend  to  first,  and  I  must  re- 
quest the  pleasure  of  your  company  to  discuss  it.' 


1 66  THE   CHEVALIER  D'AURIAC 

'  Ah ! '  he  said,  stroking  the  marabout  feathers 
in  his  hat,  '  that  difference  of  opinion  we  had 
about  the  woods  of  Bidache,  eh  ?  I  see  from  your 
face  it  is  so.     I  had  almost  forgotten  it.* 

*  Monsieur*s  memory  is  convenient.' 

He  bowed  with  a  grin  ;  '  I  am  old,  but  shall 
take  care  not  to  forget  this  time ' 

^  Come,  gentlemen,'  and  Belin  interposed,  *  the 
day  is  too  young  to  begin  to  quarrel,  and  if  this 
must  come  to  a  meeting  allow  your  seconds 
to  arrange  the  time  and  place.  One  moment, 
baron,'  and  taking  me  by  the  arm  he  led  me  to 
the  door.  '  Malheureux  !  '  he  whispered,  '  will  you 
upset  the  kettle  !  See  me  to-morrow,  and  adieu  ! ' 
He  pressed  my  hand  and  I  went  out,  preceded  by 
Vallon,  who  must  have  caught  Belin's  words,  but 
whose  face  was  as  impassive  as  stone. 


CHAPTER  XI 

A  SWIM    IN   THE   SEINE 

Swearing  he  would  be  back  again  in  a  week, 
Jacques  set  out  for  Ezy  within  an  hour  of  our  re- 
turn to  the  Rue  des  Deux  Mondes,  and  his  going 
had  removed  one  weight  from  my  mind.  I  knew 
full  well  that,  unless  something  beyond  his  con- 
trol happened,  my  business  would  be  faithfully 
discharged,  though  I  felt  I  was  losing  a  tower  of 
strength  when  I  needed  support  most,  as  I  watched 
him  riding  along  the  Malaquais,  mounted  on  the 
sorrel  and  leading  the  grey. 

He  went  out  of  sight  at  last,  and,  now  that  the 
momentary  bustle  caused  by  his  departure  had 
ceased,  I  had  leisure  to  think  of  what  I  had  heard 
from  de  Belin ;  and  those  who  have  read  the  pre- 
ceding pages,  and  have  formed  their  judgment  as 
to  what  was  my  character  at  that  time,  can  well 
imagine  that  I  was  mentally  on  the  rack. 

The  trouble  with  d'Ayen  was  bad  enough,  but 
united  to  that  was  Belin's  statement,  that  she — 
she  was  prepared,  no  matter  what  the  conse- 
quences were,  to  give  her  hand  to  de  Gomeron  ! 
Had  I  been  in  her  place  death  would  have  been 
preferable  to  me  rather  than  this  alternative ;  and 

167 


1 68  THE   CHEVALIER  D'AURIAC 

then  I  thought  of  the  token  she  had  sent  back  to 
me — felt  that  I  was  being  trifled  with,  and  gave 
full  rein  to  my  jealous  and  bitter  temper. 

To  all  intents  and  purposes  I  was  alone  in  my 
chamber,  and  yet  I  could  swear  that  there  was 
an  invisible  presence  at  my  ear  that  whispered, 
*  Fooled  !  Tricked !  She  is  but  as  other  women 
are,  and  you  have  played  the  quintain  for  her 
practice.' 

By  heaven!  If  it  was  so,  I  would  end  it  all  at 
once,  and  not  waste  another  moment  of  my  life 
on  a  heartless  coquette !  It  must  be  so.  It  was 
so.  By  this  time  I  had  got  beyond  power  of  rea- 
son, and  jumped  to  my  conclusions  like  the  thrice 
blind  fool  I  was.  Snatching  forth  the  bow  from 
its  resting  place  over  my  heart,  I  tore  the  ribbons 
asunder,  and  flung  them  on  the  floor  before  me, 
with  a  curse  at  the  vanity  of  womankind  that 
could  make  a  plaything  of  a  heart.  I  would  be 
gone  that  moment.  I  would  leave  this  country 
of  intrigue  and  dishonour.  In  an  hour  I  could 
catch  Jacques  up,  and  in  ten  days  we  would  be  on 
the  seas,  and  in  that  New  World,  which  had  not 
yet  time  to  grow  wicked,  make  for  myself  a  fresh 
life.  By  God  !  I  would  do  it !  My  hand  was  on 
the  bell-rope,  when  there  came  a  sharp  tap  at  the 
door,  and  the  next  moment  Ravaillac  announced 
in  his  low  voice  : 

*Maitre  Palin  to  wait  on  Monsieur  le  Cheva- 
lier/ 

I  pulled  myself  together  with  an  effort,  and  ad- 
vanced to  meet  my  old  friend  as  he  came  in. 


A   SWIM  IN   THE  SEINE  1 69 

*At  last!  I  have  been  expecting  you  hourly 
for  some  time.' 

*  I  could  not  come,  chevalier.  I  will  explain  in 
a  moment.*  ^ 

*  First  sit  down.  Take  that  chair  there  near 
the  window  ;  it  commands  a  good  view.' 

'  Monsieur  does  not  need  this?  ' 

It  was  Ravaillac's  voice  that  broke  in  upon  us, 
and  he  himself  stood  before  me,  holding  out  on  a 
salver  the  ribbons  of  the  torn  bow.  Civil  as  the 
question  was,  there  was  something  in  his  tone 
that  made  me  look  at  him  sharply.  It  seemed  to 
me,  as  I  looked  up,  that  a  faint  smile  vanished 
between  his  bloodless  lips  like  a  spider  slipping 
back  into  a  crevice. 

I  could,  however,  see  no  trace  of  impertinence  in 
the  long  sallow  face,  and  the  whole  attitude  of  my 
new  follower  was  one  of  submissive  respect.  I 
fancied,  therefore,  that  I  had  made  a  mistake,  and 
put  it  down  to  the  state  of  mental  agitation  I  was 
in  at  the  time. 

*  No,'  I  answered  him  ;  *  you  can  fling  it  away. 
And  in  future  you  need  not  ask  me  about  such 
trifles.' 

^Very  well,  monsieur,  I  will  remember,'  and 
with  a  bow  he  moved  towards  the  door,  the  salver 
in  his  hand. 

*  Ravaillac,'  I  called  out  after  him. 

*  Monsieur.' 

'  On  second  thoughts  do  not  throw  that  away. 
I  did  not — I  mean,  please  leave  it  there  on  the 
table/ 


I/O  THE    CHEVALIER  D'AURIAC 

'  Monsieur,'  and,  laying  down  the  salver,  he 
stepped  out  of  the  room. 

*  I  see  you  have  changed  your  livery  with  your 
old  servant,  chevalier,'  said  Palin,  sipping  at  his 
wine,  as  the  man  went  out,  closing  the  door  care- 
fully and  softly  behind  him. 

'  Not  so.  Jacques  has  merely  gone  away  tem- 
porarily on  some  business  of  importance.  In  fact 
he  left  to-day,  shortly  before  you  came,  and  this 
man,  or  rather  youth,  has  been  lent  to  me  by  a 
friend.' 

*  And  his  name  is  Ravaillac?* 
'  Yes.' 

*  An  uncommon  name  for  a  man  of  his  class.' 

*  Perhaps — but  these  men  assume  all  kinds  of 
names.  He  is,  however,  better  educated  than  the 
usual  run  of  people  in  his  position,  and  bears  an 
excellent  character,  although  he  has  been  a 
Flagellant,  from  which  complaint  he  has  re- 
covered.' 

'  Most  of  them  do.  And  now,  my  good  friend, 
let  us  dismiss  Ravaillac  and  tell  me  how  you  pro- 
gress.' 

For  a  moment  it  was  in  me  to  tell  him  all,  to 
say  that  I  had  abandoned  a  worthless  cause,  and 
that  I  could  do  no  more  as  I  was  leaving  France 
at  once.  Mechanically  1  stretched  out  my  hand 
towards  the  tags  of  ribbon  on  the  table,  and  my 
fingers  closed  over  them.  What  was  I  to  say  ?  I 
could  not  answer  Palin.  Through  the  now  darken- 
ing room  I  could  see  his  earnest  features  turned 
towards  me  for  reply,  and  behind  it  there  moved 


A  SWIM  IN    THE  SEINE  171 

in  the  shadow  the  dim  outline  of  a  fair  face  set  in 
a  mass  of  chestnut  hair,  and  the  violet  light  from 
its  eyes  seemed  to  burn  through  my  veins.  My 
tongue  was  stilled,  and  I  could  say  nothing.  At 
length  he  spoke  again. 

*  Do  I  gather  from  your  silence  that  you  have 
failed?* 

*  No— not  so — but  little  or  nothing  could  be  done, 

as  the  King  has  only  just  come,  and  then *  I 

stopped. 

*And  then— what?' 

'  It  seems  that  Madame  has  changed  her  mind.' 

'  I  do  not  follow  you.  Do  you  know  what  you 
are  saying?*     His  tone  was  coldly  stern. 

My  temper  began  to  rise  at  this.  I  put  down 
the  ribbons  and  said  :  '  Yes,  I  think  I  do — or  else 
why  has  Madame  come  to  Paris,  and  what  is  this 
story  I  hear  about  a  Monsieur  de  Gomeron  ?  If 
that  is  true  it  ends  the  matter.* 

I  got  up  as  I  spoke,  and  began  to  pace  the  room 
in  my  excitement. 

*•  Had  I  been  twenty  years  younger.  Monsieur 
d*Auriac,  I  would  have  paraded  you  for  what  you 
have  said ;  but  my  cloth  and  my  age  forbid  it.  My 
age,  not  because  it  has  weakened  my  arm,  but  be- 
cause it  has  taught  me  to  think.  My  young 
friend,  you  are  a  fool.* 

*  I  know  I  have  been,*  I  said  bitterly,  *  but  I 
shall  be  so  no  longer.* 

*  And,  in  saying  so,  confirm  yourself  in  your 
folly.  Are  you  so  beside  yourself  that  you  con- 
demn unheard !     Sit  down,  man,  and  hear  what  I 


172  THE   CHEVALIER  D'AURIAC 

have  to  say.     It  will  not  keep  you  long.     You  can 
leave  Paris  five  minutes  after,  if  you  like/ 
I  came  back  to  my  seat,  and  Palin  continued : 
'  You  appear  to  be  offended  at  Madame  de  la 
Bidache's  coming  to  Paris  ?  ' 

*  I  am  not  offended — I  have  no  right  to  be.' 

*  Well,  it  will  interest  you  to  hear  that  her  com- 
ing to  Paris  was  forced.  That  practically  we  are 
prisoners.' 

*  You  mean  to  say  that  he — the  King — has  gone 
as  far  as  that ! ' 

*  I  mean  what  I  say — Madame  cannot  leave  her 
hotel,  except  to  go  to  the  Louvre,  without  his 
permission.* 

*  But  this  is  infamous  !  * 

*  In  an  almost  similar  case  this  was  what  the 
daughter  of  de  Coeuvres  said,  and  yet  she  died 
Duchesse  de  Beaufort.  But  are  you  satisfied 
now  ?* 

'  I  am,'  I  said  in  a  low  tone,  and  then,  with  an 
effort, '  but  there  is  still  the  other  matter.' 

'  You  are  exacting — are  you  sure  you  have  a 
right  to  ask  that  ?  ' 

Luckily,  it  was  too  dark  for  Palin  to  see  my  eyes 
turn  to  the  tangle  of  crushed  ribbons  on  the  table. 
How  much  did  the  Huguenot  know?  I  could  not 
tell,  and  after  all  I  had  no  right  to  ask  the  ques- 
tion I  had,  and  said  so. 

*  I  have  no  right,  but,  if  it  is  true,  it  means  that 
the  affair  is  at  an  end.' 

'  If  it  is  true  ? ' 

*•  Then  it  is  not  ? '    My  heart  began  to  beat  fasten 


A   SWIM  IN   THE  SEINE  1 73 

*  I  did  not  say  so.  Remember  that  the  alterna- 
tive is  Monsieur  le  Baron  d'Ayen/ 

*  There  is  another/ 
'And  that  is?* 

'  Death; 

*  We  are  Huguenots/  he  answered  coldly,  'and 
believe  in  the  word  of  God.  We  do  not  kill  our 
souls.' 

*  Great  heavens !  man  !  Tell  me  if  it  is  true  or 
not  ?  Do  not  draw  this  out.  In  so  many  words, 
is  Madame  de  la  Bidache  pledged  to  de  Gome- 
ron?' 

*  Most  certainly  not,  but  Biron  and  her  nearest 
relative,  Tremouille,  have  urged  it  on  her  as  a 
means  of  escape.  She  has,  however,  given  no  an- 
swer.' 

*Then  de  Belin  was  wrong?' 

'  If  you  mean  that  the  Compte  de  Belin  said  so, 
then  he  had  no  authority  for  the  statement.' 

I  took  back  the  ribbons  from  the  table  and 
thrust  them  into  their  old  resting-place,  my  face 
hot  with  shame  at  my  unworthy  suspicions. 

*  Palin,'  I  said,. 'you  were  right.     I  am  a  fool.' 

'  You  are,'  he  answered,  '  exactly  what  your 
father  was  before  you  at  your  age.' 

'  My  father — you  knew  him  ?  ' 

'Yes — Raoul  de  Breuil,  Sieur  d'Auriac,  and 
Governor  of  Provence.  We  were  friends  in  the 
old  days,  and  I  owed  him  my  life  once,  as  did 
also  Henry  the  Great,  our  King  and  master — in 
the  days  of  his  youth.' 

'  And  you  never  told  me  this  ?  ' 


174  THE   CHEVALIER  D'AURIAC 

'  I  have  told  you  now.  I  owe  the  house  of  Au- 
riac  my  life  twice  over,  and  I  recognise  in  this, 
as  in  all  things,  the  hand  of  God.  Young  man, 
I  have  watched  you,  and  you  are  worthy — be  of 
good  courage.'  He  stretched  out  his  hand,  and  I 
grasped  it  in  silence. 

'  See  here,'  he  continued,  '  I  have  come  to  you 
like  a  thief  in  the  twilight,  because  I  have  that  to 
say  which  is  for  you  alone.  It  is  useless  to  ap- 
peal  to  the  King.  Our  only  chance  is  flight,  and 
we  have  no  one  to  rely  on  but  you.  Will  you 
help  us — help  Madame?' 

*Why  need  to  ask?  Have  I  not  already  said 
so  ?  Am  I  not  ready  to  die,  if  need  be,  to  save 
her?' 

*  You  are  now,'  he  said,  '  but  I  will  not  press 
that  point.  Then  we,  or  rather  I,  can  count  on 
you?' 

'  To  the  end  of  my  sword ;  but  does  not  Ma- 
dame know  of  this  ?  * 

*  Not  yet.  Should  it  fall  through,  there  would 
be  only  another  bitter  disappointment  for  her.  It 
is,  moreover,  an  idea  that  has  but  shaped  itself 
with  me  to-day.' 

'  Where  do  you  propose  going  ?  ' 
'  To   Switzerland.      There   we  would  be  safe, 
and  there  they  are  of  our  faith.' 

'  Remember,  Maitre  Palin,  that  I  am  not* 

*  Look  into  your  own  heart  and  tell  me  that 
again  at  another  time.  Can  you  count  on  a  sword 
or  two?' 

*  If    Jacques    were   only   here ! '    I   exclaimed. 


A   SWIM  IN   THE  SEINE  1 75 

And  then,  remembering  my  new  man's  reputa- 
tion, *  They  say  Ravaillac  is  good,  and  I  have  a 
friend  ' — I  bethought  me  of  Belin — '  upon  whom 
I  think  I  could  rely/ 

*  Better  one  blade  of  steel  than  two  of  soft  iron, 
chevalier.  We  must  do  what  we  can  with  what 
we  have/ 

*  When  do  you  propose  starting  ?  * 

*  On  the  night  of  the  fete  at  the  Louvre/ 

*  And  we  meet  ?  * 

*  Under  the  three  limes  in  the  Tuileries  at  com- 
pline/ 

*  I  have  but  one  horse  at  present — we  must 
have  more/ 

*  That  is  not  hard — I  will  settle  that  with  Pan- 
tin.  He  knows  the  spot  exactly,  and  will  have 
horses  in  readiness  and  guide  you  there,  if  need 
be.' 

*  1  know  it  too,  and  will  not  fail  you.  God 
grant  us  success.' 

*  Amen ! ' 

There  was  a  silence  of  a  moment,  and  then 
Palin  arose.  *  It  grows  darker  and  darker,'  he 
said ;  '  I  must  go  now — adieu  ! ' — and  he  held  out 
his  hand. 

*  Not  yet  good-bye,'  I  said.  *  I  will  accompany 
you  to  the  end  of  the  Malaquais  at  any  rate.  Ho  ! 
Ravaillac  !     My  hat  and  cloak  ! ' 

There  was  no  answer  ;  but  it  seemed  as  if  there 
was  the  sound  of  a  stumble  on  the  stairs  outside 
the  closed  door,  and  then  all  was  still. 

'  Diable  I     That  sounds  odd,'  I  exclaimed  ;  '  and 


176  THE  CHEVALIER  D'AURIAC 

*tis  SO  dark  here  I  can  hardly  lay  hands  on  any- 
thing.    Oh  !     Here  they  are — now  come  along/ 

As  I  opened  the  door  to  lead  the  way  out  I  saw 
a  flash  of  light  on  the  staircase,  and  Madame  Pan- 
tin  appeared,  bearing  a  lighted  candle  in  her  hand. 

*  I  was  coming  to  light  your  room,  monsieur,* 
she  said. 

*  It  is  good  of  you  ;  but  what  is  my  new  knave 
doing  ?  * 

*  If  Monsieur  will  step  towards  the  loft,  near 
Couronne^s  stall,  he  will  see  that  Ravaillac  is  ab- 
sorbed in  his  devotions — perhaps  Maitre  Palin 
would  care  to  see  also  ?  * 

'  Not  I,'  said  Palin. 

'  But,  at  any  rate,  his  devotions  should  not  inter- 
fere with  his  duties,'  I  burst  out ;  '  it  will  take  but 
a  minute  to  bring  him  to  his  senses.  Excuse  me 
for  a  moment,  Palin — Madame  will  see  you  as  far 
as  the  door,  and  I  will  join  you  there.' 

And  without  waiting  for  a  reply  I  ran  down 
towards  the  stables,  and  on  coming  there  heard 
the  voice  of  some  one  groaning  and  sobbing. 
Peering  up  into  the  darkness  of  the  loft  above 
me,  I  could  see  nothing,  but  heard  Ravaillac  dis- 
tinctly, as  he  writhed  in  a  mental  agony  and  called 
on  God  to  save  him  from  the  fires  of  hell.  The 
first  thought  that  struck  me  was  that  the  youth 
was  ill,  and,  clambering  up  the  ladder  that  led  to 
the  loft,  I  found  him  there  in  the  dim  light,  knee- 
ling before  a  crucifix,  beating  at  his  heart,  and 
calling  on  himself  as  the  most  miserable  of  sinners. 

*  Ravaillac  ! ' — and  I  put  my  hand  on  his  shoulder 


A   SWIM  IN   THE  SEINE  177 

— *  what  ails  you,  man  ?  Are  you  ill  ?  *  He  turned 
his  face  up  towards  me  ;  it  was  paler  than  ever, 
and  he  screamed  out,  '  My  hour  is  come — leave 
me — leave  me  !  Our  Lady  of  Sorrows  intercede 
for  me,  for  I  know  not  how  to  pray,*  and  with  a 
half-smothered  howl  he  fell  forwards  on  his  face 
before  the  crucifix,  and,  clasping  it  with  both 
hands,  began  to  sob  out  his  entreaties  to  God 
anew.  I  saw  that  it  was  useless  wasting  further 
time  on  him,  and  that  he  had  been  taken  with  one 
of  those  frenzy  fits  that  had  before  driven  him  to 
the  Flagellants.  I  left  him,  therefore,  to  come  to 
himself,  and  muttering  that  Belin  might  have  told 
me  of  this  foible,  came  backwards  down  the  ladder 
to  find  that  Palin  and  Madame  Pantin  had  followed 
me,  and  were  but  a  few  yards  away. 

*  Did  you  hear  ? '  I  asked,  as  I  joined  them  ;  *  is 
it  not  strange?* 

*  He  is  wrestling  with  the  enemy,'  said  Palin. 
*  Let  him  be.* 

*  He  is  a  traitor,*  burst  out  Annette.  *  Mon- 
sieur le  chevalier,  I  would  send  him  packing  to- 
night* 

'  I  can  hardly  do  that,*  I  said,  *  and,  besides, 
agony  such  as  that  young  man  is  passing  through 
does  not  mark  a  traitor.* 

'  As  Monsieur  pleases,*  she  answered,  and  then 
rapidly  in  my  ear,  '  Were  it  not  for  someone  else*s 
sake  I  would  let  you  go  your  own  way.  Beware 
of  him,  I  say.* 

*  Corbleu  !  dame  Annette !  why  not  speak  plain- 
ly ?     We  are  all  friends  here.* 

12 


1/8  THE   CHEVALIER   D'AURIAC 

But  she  only  laughed  mirthlessly,  and  led  the 
way  towards  the  door. 

I  accompanied  Palin  to  the  end  of  the  Malaquais, 
speaking  of  many  things  on  the  way,  and  finally 
left  him,  as  he  insisted  on  my  coming  no  further. 
So  much  had  happened  during  the  day,  however, 
that  I  determined  to  cool  my  brain  with  a  walk, 
and  my  intention  was  to  cross  the  river  and  return 
to  my  lodging  by  the  Pont  aux  Meunniers. 

I  hailed  a  boat,  therefore,  and  was  soon  on  the 
other  side  of  the  Seine,  and,  flinging  my  cloak 
over  my  arm,  set  off  at  a  round  pace,  Annette's 
warning  about  Ravaillac  buzzing  in  my  head  with 
the  insistence  of  a  fly.  As  I  passed  the  Louvre  I 
saw  that  the  windows  were  bright  with  lights, 
and  heard  the  strains  of  music  from  within.  They 
were  as  merry  within  as  I  was  sad  without,  and  I 
did  not  linger  there  long.  Keeping  to  the  right 
of  St.  Germain  TAuxerrois,  I  passed  b}^  the  Ma- 
gasins  de  Louvre,  and  then,  slackening  my  pace, 
strolled  idly  down  the  Rue  de  St.  Antoine.  Down 
this  great  street  it  seemed  as  if  the  coming  of  the 
King  had  awakened  the  good  citizens  to  life  again, 
for  there  were  lights  at  nearly  all  the  windows, 
though  the  street  itself  was  in  darkness,  except  at 
the  spots  where  a  lantern  or  two  swung  on  ropes 
stretched  across  the  road,  and  lit  up  a  few  yards 
dimly  around  them.  A  few  steps  further  brought 
me  almost  opposite  a  large  house,  over  the  en- 
trance to  which  was  a  transparent  signboard  with 
a  row  of  lamps  behind  it,  and  I  saw  1  had  stumbled 
across  Morels,  the  eating  and  gaming  house  kept 


A  SWIM  IN   THE  SEINE  179 

by  the  most  celebrated  traiteur  in  Paris.  I  had  a 
mind  to  step  in,  more  out  of  curiosity  than  any- 
thing else,  when,  just  as  I  halted  in  hesitation 
before  the  door,  two  or  three  masked  cavaliers 
came  out  singing  and  laughing,  and  in  the  fore- 
most of  them  I  had  no  difficulty  in  recognising 
the  old  reprobate,  d'Ayen.  Much  as  I  would  have 
avoided  a  quarrel,  it  could  not  be  helped,  for  I  had 
the  door,  and  it  was  certainly  my  right  to  enter. 
They,  however,  ranged  themselves  arm-in-arm 
before  me,  and,  being  in  wine,  began  to  laugh  and 
jeer  at  my  sombre  attire. 

'  Does  Monsieur  le  Huguenot  think  there  is  a 
preche  here?'  said  d'Ayen,  bowing  to  me  in  mock- 
ery as  he  lifted  his  plumed  hat. 

I  determined  to  show  in  my  answer  that  I  knew 
them. 

*  Let  me  pass.  Monsieur  d'Ayen,*  I  said  coldly. 
*  We  have  too  much  between  us  to  quarrel  here.* 

He  knew  me  well  enough,  but  pretended  sur- 
prise. 

*  Corbceuf  f  Monsieur  le  chevalier,  and  so  it  is 
you  !  Gentlemen,  allow  me  to  present  to  you 
Monsieur  le  Chevalier  d'Auriac,  with  whom  I 
have  an  argument  that  we  never  could  bring  to  a 
conclusion.  We  disagreed  on  the  subject  of  land- 
scape gardening.' 

It  was  a  hard  pill  to  swallow,  but  I  had  made 
up  my  mind  to  retreat.  The  Edict  was  fresh ;  a 
conflict  there  would  have  meant  complete  disas- 
ter ;  and  there  would  be  no  chance  for  escape,  as 
the  passage  was  getting  crowded. 


I80  THE   CHEVALIER  D'AURIAC 

'  I  remember  perfectly/  I  said,  carrying  on 
d'Ayen's  feint,  '  but  I  am  not  prepared  to  discuss 
the  matter  now.  I  must  go  back  to  take  some 
notes  to  refresh  my  memory.' 

The  man  was  blown  with  wine.  He  thought  I 
feared  him,  and  my  words,  which  roused  his  com- 
panions to  scornful  laughter,  made  him  do  a  fool- 
ish thing. 

*  At  least  take  a  reminder  with  you,'  and  he 
flung  his  soft,  musk-scented  glove  in  my  face. 

*  A  ring !  a  ring  !  '  roared  twenty  voices,  and, 
before  I  knew  where  I  was,  I  was  in  the  centre  of 
a  circle  in  the  passage,  the  slight  figure  of  d'Ayen 
before  me,  and  the  point  of  his  rapier  glinting  like 
a  diamond — now  in  quarte,  now  in  tierce. 

He  was  of  the  old  school  of  Dominic,  and  came 
at  me  with  a  *f^.^  qa  !  '  and  a  flourish,  springing 
back  like  a  cat  to  avoid  the  return.  Had  I  been 
taught  the  use  of  the  small  sword  by  any  less 
master  than  Touchet  it  would  have  gone  hard 
with  me,  but,  as  it  was,  the  third  pass  showed  me 
the  game  was  mine.  The  din  around  us  was  be- 
yond description,  for  whilst  More  and  his  men 
were  struggling  to  get  close  enough  to  separate 
us,  the  onlookers  kept  thrusting  the  hotel  people 
back,  and  oaths,  shrieks,  wagers,  screams  for  the 
watch,  and  half-a-hundred  different  exclamations 
and  challenges  were  shouted  out  at  once.  I  had 
no  time  to  look  around  me,  for,  old  as  he  was,  m}^ 
opponent  displayed  uncommon  activity,  and  I 
could  not  but  admire  his  courage.  Coxcomb  and 
fool,  dishonoured  though  he  was,  under  his  flow- 


A   SWIM  IN   THE  SEINE  l8l 

ered  vest  was  no  craven  heart,  and  I  spared  him 
once  for  his  age  and  twice  for  his  spirit.  But 
now  came  the  warning  cry  of  '  Watch !  the 
watch !  *  behind  me.  D'Ayen  thrust  low  in  tierce  ; 
the  parry  was  simple  and  I  pinked  him  through 
the  shoulder-joint — I  could  have  hit  him  where  I 
liked  at  that  moment.  He  dropped  his  sword  with 
a  curse,  and  I  found  myself  the  next  moment  in  a 
general  mel^e,  for  the  watch  were  using  no  mild 
measures  to  force  an  entrance,  and  there  was  a 
fine  to-do  in  consequence. 

Someone — I  know  not  who — at  this  juncture 
cut  the  silken  cord  by  which  a  huge  ornamental 
lantern  was  hung  above  our  heads.  It  fell  with  a 
crash,  and  in  a  moment  we  were  in  semi-darkness. 
I  took  the  opportunity  to  dash  forwards,  flatten 
myself  against  the  wall,  and,  by  dint  of  a  little 
management  and  more  good  luck,  succeeded  in 
getting  within  a  yard  or  so  of  the  door.  Here, 
taking  my  occasion,  I  made  a  sudden  spring  for- 
wards, upsetting  a  man  in  front  of  me,  and  dashed 
off  down  the  street.  Unfortunately,  I  was  not  so 
quick  but  that  I  was  seen  and  instantly  pursued 
by  a  portion  of  the  watch  on  guard  outside. 

There  was  nothing  for  it  but  to  run.  Fast  as  I 
went,  however,  there  were  good  men  behind  me, 
and  I  could  not  shake  them  off,  though  the  streets 
were  in  gloom.  The  worst  of  the  matter,  how- 
ever, was  that  the  watch  was  being  constantly 
reinforced  by  amateur  guardians  of  the  peace. 
Everyone  who  happened  to  be  passing,  or  heard 
the  noise,  seemed  to  think  it  his  duty  to  join  in 


1 82  THE   CHEVALIER  D'AURIAC 

the  chase,  and  it  was  with  a  fine  following  that  I 
headed  towards  the  river.  Heaven  knows  how  I 
cursed  my  folly  at  having  put  my  nose  into 
More's,  and  I  redoubled  my  pace  as  I  heard,  from 
the  shouts  to  the  right  and  to  the  left  of  me,  that 
I  was  practically  hemmed  in,  and  that  my  only 
chance  was  to  take  to  the  river.  They  were  close 
up  to  me  when  I  reached  the  bank  a  few  yards 
below  the  Pont  aux  Meunniers,  and  without 
further  hesitation  I  plunged  in,  and  the  bubbling 
and  seething  of  the  water  brought  the  yell  of  dis- 
appointment from  the  bank  faintly  to  my  ears. 
The  set  of  the  stream  was  towards  the  opposite 
shore,  and  in  five  seconds  I  was  in  pitch  darkness, 
though,  looking  back  over  my  shoulder  as  I  struck 
out,  I  could  see,  by  the  lanterns  that  some  car- 
ried, the  watch  and  the  volunteer  brigade  dancing 
with  anger  at  my  escape,  but  none  of  them  dared 
to  follow. 

I  had  to  swim  with  a  will,  for  the  current  was 
swift ;  but  at  length  I  reached  my  own  side  of  the 
river — drenched,  it  is  true,  but  safe  for  the  pre- 
sent. When  I  reached  my  lodging  Pantin  opened 
the  door  to  me. 

''del!'  he  exclaimed,  as  he  saw  me  wet  and 
dripping.     '  What  has  happened  ?  * 

*  I  have  had  a  swim  in  the  Seine,  Pantin ;  say 
nothing  about  it/ 


CHAPTER  XII 

MONSIEUR   RAVAILLAC   DOES   NOT   SUIT 

In  the  excitement  attendant  in  my  scuffle  with 
d'Ayen  and  the  subsequent  events,  ending  in  my 
escape  from  the  clutches  of  the  watch,  I  had  for 
the  moment  clean  forgot  Ravaillac's  fit  of  frenzy. 
I  slept  profoundly,  and  towards  morning  was  half 
awakened  by  an  uneasy  feeling  that  there  was 
someone  in  the  room.  This  passed  away;  but  a 
short  time  after  I  awoke  with  a  start,  and  looking 
around  saw  Ravaillac  bending  over  some  of  my 
things  which  were  lying  in  a  corner  of  the  room. 
As  1  looked  at  him  the  full  recollection  of  his 
strange  behaviour  came  back  to  me,  and,  a  slight 
movement  on  my  part  attracting  his  attention,  he 
bade  me  a  civil  good-morning.  He  made  no  men- 
tion, however,  of  his  illness,  nor  did  he  excuse 
himself  in  any  way,  but  set  about  his  duties  in  a 
quiet,  cat-like  manner. 

Whilst  he  moved  softly  about,  I  began  to  piece 
together  the  noise  of  the  stumble  I  had  heard  out- 
side my  door  when  about  to  set  out  with  Palin, 
with  Madame  Pantin's  warning  and  the  scene  in 
the  loft.  It  struck  me  that  his  seizure  might  after 
all  be  a  blind,  and  I  determined  to  question  the 
man,  and,  by  watching  the  play  of  his  features  and 

183 


1 84  THE   CHEVALIER    D'AURIAC 

noting  his  manner  of  reply,  try  and  discover  if 
there  was  anything  to  show  that  my  idea  was  cor- 
rect. 

Pretending,  therefore,  to  be  unaware  of  what 
had  passed,  I  asked : 

*  How  was  it  you  w^ere  not  in  to  receive  me  last 
night,  Ravaillac  ?  * 

There  w^as  a  quick  up-and-down  movement  of 
the  long  grey  eyes,  and  he  answered : 

*  I  was  ill,  monsieur ;  I  trust  Monsieur  le  Che- 
valier is  not  hurt  ?  ' 

^Hurt!     Why  should  I  be?* 

*  Monsieur  will  pardon  me,  but  I  thought  it  pos- 
sible.' 

*How  so?' 

*  Monsieur's  clothes  were  dripping  wet  when  I 
first  came  in,  and  his  rapier  stained  full  six  inches 
from  the  point  when  I  drew  it  out  of  its  sheath  to 
clean  it  this  morning.  It  looked  like  an  arm- 
thrust,  and  I  thought ' 

'  Never  mind  what  you  thought.  I  had  a  slight 
affair  last  night,  but  was  not  hurt.*  It  was  clear 
to  me  that  he  was  trying  to  carry  the  war  into 
my  country,  as  it  were,  by  counter-questions  to 
mine.     I  therefore  cut  him  short,  and  added  : 

'  Your  illness  came  and  went  very  suddenly. 
Are  you  often  taken  that  way  ? ' 

*  Then  Monsieur  knows ' 

*  A  great  many  things,  perhaps ;  but  kindly 
answer  my  question.' 

It  may  have  been  fancy  or  not ;  but  it  seemed 
to  me  that,  as  once  before,  I  saw  the  wraith  of  a 


MONSIEUR  RAVAILLAC  DOES  NOT  SUIT    1 85 

smile  flit  stealthily  along  his  thin  lips.  He  was 
standing  in  front  of  me,  holding  my  rapier,  and 
his  eyes  were  bent  down  on  the  polished  steel  hilt 
as  I  spoke. 

At  first  he  made  no  answer,  and  I  repeated  my 
question.  This  time  he  looked  me  full  in  the  face, 
and  the  whole  expression  of  the  man  changed — 
his  cheeks  paled,  his  eyes  dilated,  his  voice  took  a 
shrill  pitch. 

'  I  cannot  tell,  monsieur.  It  comes  and  goes 
like  the  wind.  There  is  a  Fear  that  falls  on  me — 
a  Fear  and  something,  I  know  not  what,  beside  ; 
but  all  before  my  eyes  is  red — red  as  if  it  rained 
blood — and  then  a  myriad  of  devils  are  whisper- 
ing in  my  ears,  and  there  is  no  safety  for  me 
but  the  cross  and  prayer.  It  has  passed  now — 
God  be  thanked!  Will  Monsieur  not  take  his 
sword  ?  * 

His  voice  dropped  again  to  its  low,  soft  note  as 
he  ended,  and  handed  me  my  rapier.  I  buckled  it 
on,  thinking  to  myself,  *  My  friend,  you  are  either 
a  lunatic  at  large  or  a  finished  actor.  In  either 
case  you  won't  do  for  me.'  I  said  no  more,  how- 
ever, but  when  he  gave  me  my  hat  he  asked  : 

*  Will  Monsieur  require  me  in  attendance  ?  * 

*  Yes.  I  go  to  the  Hotel  de  Belin,  and  I  trust 
this  will  be  the  last  of  your  attacks  whilst  you  are 
with  me.  The  Compte  told  me  you  had  been  a 
Flagellant,  but  had  recovered.' 

*  I  have  been  well  for  a  long  time,  monsieur/  he 
answered,  taking  my  humour — '  I  will  try  and  get 
ill  no  more/ 


1 86  THE   CHEVALIER  D'AURIAC 

'  I  am  glad  of  that.  Saddle  Couronne.  I  go  out 
at  once — you  can  follow  on  foot/ 

*  Monsieur/ 

The  next  moment  he  was  gone,  and  I  heard  him 
running  down  the  stairs.  It  would  take  a  few 
minutes  to  get  Couronne  ready,  but  I  followed 
him  down  at  once,  as  I  had  an  inquiry  to  make 
from  Madame  Pantin.  I  heard  someone  moving 
below  in  the  kitchen,  and,  thinking  it  was  dame 
Annette,  called  down  the  winding  stair: 

'  Madame^ — Madame  Pantin  ! ' 

*  Madame  is  out ;  but  is  there  anything  I  can 
do  for  Monsieur  ?  '  And  the  notary  appeared  be- 
low, a  dim  outline,  clad  in  his  dressing-gown, 
with  a  woollen  cap  on  his  head. 

I  went  down  to  him  and  asked : 

*  Pantin,  do  you  know  if  Ravaillac  was  out  last 
night?' 

*I  would  have  told  Monsieur  there  and  then 
when  he  came  in  from  his  swim  in  the  Seine. 
No,  for  I  watched  and  saw  him  sleeping  in  the 
loft' 

*  Are  you  sure  ? ' 

*  As  I  am  of  being  here.* 

*  Thanks !     Madame  is  out  early  ?  * 

*  She  has  gone  to  the  Rue  Varenne ;  but,  mon- 
sieur, be  careful  of  that  Ravaillac' 

I  nodded  my  head,  and  then,  raising  my  voice : 
*  I  dine  at  the  Two  Ecus  as  usual — good  day  ! ' 

*  Good  day,  monsieur  ! ' 

Couronne  was  at  the  door,  Ravaillac  at  her 
head,  and,  mounting,  I  went  at  a  walking  pace 


MONSIEUR   RAVAILLAC  DOES  NOT  SUIT    1 8/ 

towards  the  Pont  au  Change,  my  servant  a  yard 
or  so  behind.  It  was  my  intention  to  see  de 
Belin,  to  ask  him  to  find  out  if  I  was  in  any  dan- 
ger owing  to  last  night's  folly  or  misadventure — 
call  it  what  you  will — and  to  beg  his  advice  on 
the  course  I  was  to  pursue. 

I  had  been  recognised  by  d'Ayen.  My  name 
was  known  to  those  with  him,  and  any  trouble 
with  the  Hotel  de  Ville  meant  hopeless  disaster. 
I  had  almost  made  up  my  mind  to  conceal  my- 
self somewhere  until  the  day  of  flight;  but,  be- 
fore taking  any  action,  thought  it  advisable  to 
consult  my  friend,  and  to  return  Ravaillac  to  his 
service. 

On  my  way  to  the  Rue  de  Bourdonnais,  how- 
ever, I  began  to  turn  the  matter  of  Ravaillac  over 
again  in  my  mind,  and  found  myself  between  the 
hedge  and  the  ditch.  If  I  got  rid  of  him,  the 
man,  if  he  was  a  spy,  could  watch  me  in  secret; 
if  I  kept  him  with  me,  the  same  thing  happened. 
After  all,  whilst  with  me  he  had  greater  oppor- 
tunities, and  the  less  of  the  two  evils  was  to  be 
rid  of  him — yes,  it  would  be  better  so. 

Imagine  my  disappointment  when  reaching  his 
hotel  to  find  that  Belin  was  out !  Vallon  begged 
me  to  wait,  explaining  that  his  master  had  been 
absent  for  so  long  a  time  that  his  return  would  be 
but  a  matter  of  minutes.  He  had  supped  out  the 
night  before  with  de  Vitry,  the  Captain  of  the 
Scots  Guards,  and  M.  le  Grand,  had  come  back 
late,  and  gone  forth  very  early  in  the  morning, 
and  it  was  now  full  time  he  was  back. 


1 88  THE   CHEVALIER  D'AURIAC 

I  determined  therefore  to  wait,  though  every 
moment  was  of  importance  to  me,  and,  after  a 
half-hour  of  patience  in  an  easy  chair,  rose  and 
walked  towards  the  window,  to  while  away  the 
time  by  watching  what  was  going  on  below.  One 
of  the  heavy  brocade  curtains  was  half  drawn, 
and  without  thinking  of  it  I  came  up  towards 
that  side,  and  looked  out  from  behind  its  cover. 
It  struck  me  as  strange  that  my  horse  was  with- 
out the  gate,  instead  of  being  within  the  court- 
yard, and  Ravaillac,  with  the  reins  thrown  over 
his  shoulder,  was  engaged  in  converse  with  a 
cavalier  whose  back  was  turned  to  me,  and  whose 
head  was  entirely  concealed  by  his  broad-brimmed 
hat  and  long  plumes. 

But  the  tall,  straight  figure,  with  its  stretch  of 
shoulder,  could  not  be  mistaken.  It  was  de  Go- 
meron  to  a  certainty,  and  my  doubts  on  the  point 
were  soon  at  rest.  Keeping  as  far  as  possible 
within  the  shadow  of  the  curtain,  I  watched  them 
for  full  five  minutes  whilst  they  conversed  to- 
gether earnestly,  and  then  something  changed 
hands  between  them.  Finally,  the  cavalier  left 
Ravaillac  with  a  nod  to  his  salute,  and  crossed 
over  to  the  other  side  of  the  road,  where  a 
mounted  lackey  was  holding  his  horse.  As  he 
gained  the  saddle,  he  turned  his  face  towards  me 
for  an  instant.  There  was  no  shadow  of  doubt 
left.  It  was  de  Gomeron,  and  it  was  clear  that 
there  was  more  between  the  free-lance  and  Ravail- 
lac than  there  should  be,  and  also  I  was  con- 
vinced, I  know  not  how,  that  what  had  passed  be- 


MONSIEUR  RAVAILLAC  DOES  NOT  SUIT    1 89 

tween  them  touched  me,  and  was  not  for  my 
good.  What  object  the  man  had  to  play  traitor 
I  cannot  say  ;  but  I  do  know  that  there  are  some 
natures  to  whom  double  dealing  is  as  their  skin, 
and  whom  nothing  can  turn  from  falsehood  and 
chicane. 

Be  this  as  it  may,  I  knew  at  any  rate  the  grass 
where  one  viper  lay,  and  made  up  my  mind  to 
blunt  his  fangs  without  any  further  delay.  I  gave 
de  Belin  another  half-hour,  and  then,  calling  Val- 
lon,  left  a  message  with  him,  begging  my  friend 
to  see  me  at  my  lodging  on  a  matter  of  the  ut- 
most moment.  As  soon  as  I  was  in  the  saddle, 
I  bent  forwards,  and,  looking  Ravaillac  full  in  the 
face,  said  :  '  My  friend,  you  have  too  many  ac- 
quaintances for  my  service;  I  return  you  from 
this  moment  to  Monsieur  le  Compte.* 

'  I  do  not  understand,  monsieur,*  he  began  to 
stammer  ;  but  I  cut  him  short. 

*  I  spoke  clearly  enough.  I  do  not  require  your 
services  further.  You  are  discharged.  Take 
this,*  and  flinging  him  a  couple  of  gold  pieces, 
which  the  scoundrel  swooped  at  like  a  hawk,  I 
turned  the  mare's  head  and  trotted  off. 

I  made  a  short  cut  down  a  side  street,  and,  in  so 
doing,  had  an  opportunity  of  taking  a  last  look  at 
my  man.  He  was  standing  talking  to  Vallon,  and 
moving  his  hands  in  my  direction. 

'  Reeling  out  lies  by  the  dozen,*  I  muttered  to 
myself.  '  If  I  mistake  not,  there  will  be  another 
place  lost  to  you  by  sundown.' 

I  let  myself  in  by  the  stable  entrance,  and,  after 


I90  THE   CHEVALIER  D'AURIAC 

attending  to  Couronne,  entered  the  house.  There 
was  apparently  not  a  soul  within.  I  sought  the 
lower  apartments  in  the  hope  of  finding  either  the 
notary  or  his  wife,  to  explain  to  them  my  action 
in  regard  to  Ravaillac ;  but  neither  of  them  was 
visible.  There  was  no  answer  to  my  call.  There 
could  not  be  a  soul  in  the  house. 

I  determined,  therefore,  to  go  up  to  my  room 
and  await  de  Belin's  coming,  and  on  my  opening 
the  door  of  my  sitting-room  saw,  to  my  surprise, 
a  man  apparently  dozing  in  my  armchair.  The 
noise  of  my  entrance  awoke  him.  He  jumped  up, 
and  I  recognised  my  friend. 

'  Belin!  what  good  wind  has  blown  you  here? 
But  how  did  you  come  in  ?  There  is  no  one  in  the 
house  ?' 

*  There  was  when  I  came  in,  my  friend.  Do  you 
know  * — and  he  looked  me  in  the  face — *  You  have 
made  a  mess  of  things.' 

*  You  know  already  !  Belin,  I  have  just  been 
to  see  you  about  it.  The  whole  affair  was  forced 
on  me.* 

'  Partly.  It  was  lucky  I  was  there,  and  sober 
enough  to  think  of  cutting  the  cord  of  the  lamp. 
You  vanished,  as  I  thought  you  would,  and  I  have 
been  attending  to  your  affairs  since  then ;  any 
other  man  would  have  been  laid  by  the  heels  ere 
this,  but  the  stars  fought  for  you.* 

'  Any  other  man  who  had  not  a  friend  like  you, 
Lisois.  But  do  you  really  mean  that  I  am  safe 
from  arrest  ?  * 

*  I  think  so,  from  any  count  under  the  Edict  of 


MONSIEUR  RAVAILLAC  DOES  NOT  SUIT    191 

Blois ;  but  I  had  a  devil  of  a  dance.  First  of  all, 
the  catchpoles  insisted  upon  turning  their  atten- 
tions towards  me,  and  I  only  got  off  on  the  testi- 
mony of  M.  le  Baron,  who  after  all  is  but  scratched, 
though  spoiling  for  revenge.  Then  I  rushed  off 
to  de  Villeroi ;  but  he,  full  of  his  new  office  as 
governor  of  the  Hotel,  hummed  and  hawed — 
would  hear  of  nothing,  he  said,  until  you  were 
provided  with  a  lodging  in  Fort  I'Eveque,  and 
talked  big  of  the  law  and  its  course.  However, 
I  had  an  argument  to  persuade  him  :  little  birds 
twitter  odd  things  into  the  ears  of  a  chamberlain, 
sometimes,  and  he  agreed  to  hold  over  the  matter 
for  a  few  hours  until  I  had  seen  the  King.* 

*  The  King!* 

*Why  not,  mon  ami?  With  the  first  streak  of 
light  I  went  to  see  a  friend  who  shall  be  nameless, 
but  is  a  power  in  the  land.  An  hour  later  I  was  at 
the  Louvre  and  at  his  Majesty's  bedside.  Henry 
was  in  high  good  humour.  He  had  won  nine 
thousand  crowns  last  night  from  the  invincible 
Portuguese,  de  Pimental.  Almost  as  great  a 
victory  as  Arques,  he  said.  I  related  the  whole 
of  the  circumstances  without  mentioning  your 
name,  and,  pledging  my  word  that  d'Ayen  would 
be  about  by  this  afternoon,  begged  for  a  par- 
don.* 

*  But  the  King  of  counse  asked  for  my  name.* 

'  Of  course  he  did,  and,  in  reply,  I  said  I  would 
bring  you  in  person  to  the  Louvre  this  afternoon : 
then  by  good  chance  Sully  himself  came  in.  His 
lands  of  Muret  march  with  mine,  and  Monseigneur 


192  THE   CHEVALIER  D'AURIAC 

is  my  very  good  friend.  The  King  began  to  put 
him  the  case,  to  which  Sully  listened  without  a 
movement,  except  an  occasional  glance  at  a  roll  of 
documents  in  his  hand,  and  when  Henry  finished 
said,  with  a  smile — 

'  *'  A  trifle,  sire,  that  may  well  be  left  to  M.  de 
Villeroi ;  perhaps,  however,  sire,  your  Majesty 
might  agree  to  de  Belin's  petition.  There  is  a 
spice  of  mystery  about  it,  which  even  interests 
me.  I  have,  however,  brought  these  papers  on 
the  Gabelle." 

'  **  Diable  I  Salty,  but  hardly  a  relish — let  it  be 
as  you  wish,  Belin ;  and  now  for  my  salt  without 
any  soup."  I  took  the  hint,  as  may  be  imagined, 
and  went  straight  back  to  Villeroi,  and  the  matter 
being  now  in  the  hands  of  the  King,  he  will  of 
course  take  no  action.* 

*  You  have  been  goodness  itself.' 

*  My  dear  fellow,  let  that  rest !  All  that  you 
have  to  do  now  is  to  come  with  me  this  afternoon, 
put  your  case  to  the  King,  and  I  lay  a  hundred 
crowns  to  a  tester  you  hear  no  more — of  the  little 
affair  of  last  night.' 

As  he  said  this,  looking  me  full  in  the  face,  with 
a  peculiar  stress  on  the  last  words  of  his  speech,  a 
sudden  light  came  upon  me.  Sully's  lands  marched 
with  those  of  de  Belin.  They  were  friends.  Sully 
did  not,  for  reasons  of  his  own,  wish  it  known  that 
he  took  an  interest  in  my  mission,  and  the  rest  was 
easy  to  guess. 

*  Pardieu  !  That  little  thrust  through  the  sword 
arm  of  M.  le  Baron  is,  after  all,  not  so  unlucky — . 


MONSIEUR  RAVAILLAC  DOES  MOT  SUIT    I93 

eh  !  Belin  ?  At  least,  for  our  very  good  lord  of 
Muret  and  Villebon.' 

But  Lisois  only  laughed  in  reply,  as  he  said  : 
*  Add  a  cat  falling  on  its  feet  from  a  church 
steeple  to  your  scutcheon,  d'Auriac.  Shall  I  get 
Rouge  Croix  to  prick  the  new  coat  of  arms?  * 

*  As  you  will ;  you  have  made  my  heart,  which 
was  heavy  as  lead,  light  once  more — I  feel  now 
that  1  am  not  playing  a  hopeless  game.' 

'  The  proper  feeling  to  have,  whatever  the  ha- 
zard be.  With  all  your  northern  blood,  d'Auriac, 
you  should  not  have  so  many  nerves.* 

*  You  forget  my  mother  was  of  the  south.' 
*True,  of  the  Foix  Candale.     You  will   die  a 

Huguenot.  But  I  must  be  going.  Meet  me  at 
the  Rue  de  Bourdonnais  at  one,  exactly,  and  I 
will  take  you  to  the  Louvre,  and  now  good-bye ! ' 
He  rose  and  gave  me  his  hand. 

*  But,  surely,  there  is  no  need  for  you  to  go 
now?  .Dine  with  me  at  my  ordinary;  I  have 
much  to  tell  you.* 

Tap  !  tap  !  tap  !  It  was  dame  Annette's  little 
knock  at  my  door,  and  I  knew  it  was  something 
of  import  that  had  brought  her  to  my  room. 

'  One  moment,  Belin ! '  and,  opening  the  door,  I 
saw  Madame  Pantin  standing  there  in  breathless 
agitation. 

\  What  is  it,  madame  ?  Come  in,  and  speak 
freely;  there  is  only  my  friend  the  Compte  de 
Belin  here.' 

*  It  is  nothing,  monsieur,'  she  said  loudly,  and 
then,  dropping  her  voice  to  a  whisper,  '  Ravaillac 

13 


194  THE   CHEVALIER  D'AURIAC 

was  out  last  night.  Pantin  was  deceived.  I  have 
come  up  to  tell  you  so  at  once  :  be  rid  of  him.  I 
am  asked  to  tell  you  this  by  a  friend.* 

'A  hundred  thanks!  I  have  parted  with  him, 
and  he  will  not  trouble  us  more.  But  who  is  this 
friend  who  takes  so  great  an  interest  in  me  ?  * 

'  You  have  company,  monsieur,'  she  answered, 
with  a  bobbing  courtesy,  '  I  will  not  intrude 
longer.*  And,  without  another  word,  she  turned 
and  went  away. 

When  I  looked  back,  Belin  was  smoothing  the 
plumes  in  his  hat  and  laughing.  *  I  heard  every 
word,  d*Auriac.  So  Ravaillac  is  a  mouchard,  is 
he  ?     And  you  have  sent  him  back  to  me.* 

*  I  have,*  I  answered,  and  then  I  told  my  friend 
what  had  happened. 

His  face  was  grave  enough  when  I  ended. 

*So  that  explains  one  thing,*  he  muttered  to 
himself,  tapping  the  point  of  his  boot  with  the 
end  of  his  sheathed  rapier,  and  then,  looking  up, 
said  slowly,  '  You  were  right,  and  he  shall  sleep 
in  Fort  TEveque  to-night.  No,  I  cannot  stay. 
Be  punctual — and  see  here.*  He  came  close  up 
to  me,  and  rested  his  hand  on  my  shoulder. 

*  Though  you  do  not  know  it,  your  game  forms 
part  of  a  bigger  game  played  for  higher  stakes. 
There  are  those  who  love  France,  and  would 
have  no  more  madness  such  as  that  over  poor  Ga- 
brielle — we  are  helping  you  with  heart  and  soul. 
Be  punctual — and  adieu.  No,  I  can  go  out  by 
myself;  do  not  trouble  to  come  down.* 

He  was  gone,  and  I  paced  up  and  down  for  a 


MONSIEUR  RAVAILLAC  DOES  NOT  SUIT    195 

quarter  of  an  hour,  feeling  like  a  pawn  that  some 
unseen  hand  was  moving  hither  and  thither  on  the 
chessboard  of  intrigue.  And  then  I  went  to  my 
solitary  dinner  at  the  Two  Ecus. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

THE  LOUVRE 

It  wanted  full  ten  minutes  to  the  hour  when  I 
rode  through  the  gates  of  the  Hotel  de  Belin,  and 
a  moment  or  so  after  was  with  my  friend.  He 
was  standing  in  the  great  hall  as  I  entered,  in  the 
midst  of  a  small  but  brilliantly  dressed  group  of 
cavaliers.  On  my  being  announced,  however,  he 
came  forward  to  meet  me  with  outstretched  arms. 

'  Pardieu  !  '  he  exclaimed,  stepping  back  a  half- 
pace  after  our  greeting,  *so  you  have  dropped 
the  Huguenot?  We  poor  devils  will  have  but  a 
bad  time  of  it  if  you  turn  courtier.* 

'  Is  that  likely  ? '  I  asked,  a  little  bitterly,  and 
then,  in  a  low  tone,  '  have  you  made  Ravaillac 
safe  ? ' 

'  He  has  made  himself  safe,*  he  whispered,  '  he 
is  gone.* 

*  Gone  ?  * 

*  Yes — vanished.  It  is,  perhaps,  best  so.  We 
will  discuss  him  later,'  and,  raising  his  voice, 
*  come,  let  me  present  you  to  my  friends,*  and  he 
led  me  up  to  his  companions,  who,  gathered  in  a 
little  knot  near  the  huge  fireplace,  stood  survey- 
ing us  with  a  well-bred  curiosity. 

'  Gentlemen,  permit  me  to  introduce   my  old 

196 


THE  LOUVRE  I97 

comrade,  the  Chevalier  d'Auriac — the  Due  de 
Bellegarde,  whom  we  all  call  M.  le  Grand,  the 
Vicompte  de  Vitry,  the  Seigneur  de  Valryn,  and 
the  Chevalier  d'Aubusson,  who,  like  you,  d'Au- 
riac,  is  new  to  the  court/ 

'  And  who  is  delighted  to  meet  with  an  old  ac- 
quaintance, and  trusts  that  M.  de  Preaulx  is  in 
as  good  a  way.* 

*  As  the  company  from  Paradise — eh,  cheva- 
lier?' I  put  in. 

'  Fairly  hit,'  exclaimed  the  lieutenant,  and  then 
he  must  needs  tell  the  story  of  our  little  advent- 
ure, at  which  there  was  much  laughter,  and  it  was 
easy  to  see  that  the  Marshal  and  Zamet  had  no 
friends  in  the  Rue  de  Bourdonnais. 

*  Come,  gentlemen,'  said  de  Belin,  *  if  we  delay 
longer  we  shall  miss  the  cinque-pace — one  health 
round,  and  let  us  start.' 

As  he  spoke,  a  number  of  long-necked  glasses 
filled  with  the  wine  of  Champagne  were  brought 
to  us.  Holding  his  glass  high  above  his  head,  de 
Belin  called  out : 

'  Gentlemen — the  King.' 

The  toast  was  drunk  with  a  cheer  in  which  my 
voice  alone  was  still;  but  I  joined  with  the  others 
in  shivering  my  glass  to  fragments  on  the  white 
marble  of  the  floor,  and  then,  a  gay,  laughing 
crowd,  we  took  horse  for  the  Louvre. 

As  we  trotted  along,  I  could  not  help  wonder- 
ing to  myself  at  my  own  outward  gaiety,  and 
whether  the  same  bright  mask  covered  thoughts 
as  dark  as  mine  in  my  companions'  hearts.     Who, 


198  THE  CHEVALIER  D'AURIAC 

on  looking  at  de  Belin  and  hearing  the  frivol  of 
his  talk,  or  on  casting  a  glance  at  the  red  and 
honest  face  of  de  Vitry,  would  imagine  that  these 
men  were  hilt-deep  in  the  intrigues  of  the  court? 
Perhaps  the  stately  Bellegarde,  the  cynical  lord 
of  Valryn,  the  Thersites  of  his  day,  whose  ribald 
tongue  had  silenced  even  de  Sancy,  and  that  devil- 
may-care  d'Aubusson,  were  up  to  the  elbows  in 
the  same  pie  ! 

Absorbed  for  a  moment  or  so  in  these  reflec- 
tions I  became  silent,  and  was  only  aroused  by 
Bellegarde  riding  up  alongside  of  me  and  calling 
out — 

'  A  tester  for  your  thoughts,  chevalier,  and  three 
hundred  pistoles  for  your  nag.' 

*  My  thoughts  would  be  expensive  at  that  price, 
due,  and  the  pistoles  will  not  buy  Couronne/ 

'  Morbleu  !  Then  name  your  own  price.  'Tis 
just  such  a  horse  as  that  I  have  dreamed  of  to  lead 
the  King's  House  against  M.  de  Savoye.' 

*  I  may  need  her  for  the  Italian  war  myself, 
monseigneur.  No,  Couronne  is  not  for  sale.  She 
bears  too  heavy  a  stake  for  us  to  part.' 

Bellegarde  looked  at  me  curiously  on  my 
speech,  and  I  half  repented  of  my  last  words  ;  but 
he  said  no  more,  and  a  second  or  so  later  we  were 
past  the  Magasins  and  approaching  the  main  en- 
trance to  the  Louvre. 

The  sight  before  us  was  gay  beyond  description. 
All  the  good  commons  of  Paris  had  thronged  to 
see  the  court  re-open,  and  to  catch  a  glimpse,  and 
perhaps  a  wave  of  the  hand,  from  the  King,  whom 


THE  LOUVRE  I99 

they  now  loved  with  their  whole  hearts.  They 
came  all  in  their  gayest,  and  as  the  cheerful  crowd 
swayed  backwards  and  forwards  beyond  the  long 
line  of  guards  that  kept  the  entrance  to  the  palace 
free,  it  was  for  all  the  world  like  a  bank  of  flowers 
stirred  by  the  wind. 

But  it  was  not  the  commons  alone  that  had 
gathered  there.  From  within  the  palace  itself  we 
caught  the  continual  flashes  of  silvered  armour, 
the  sheen  of  silk  and  satin,  the  waving  of  plumes 
and  the  glitter  of  jewels,  and,  far  as  the  eye  could 
stretch  along  the  river-face,  there  was  an  appa- 
rently endless  cavalcade  approaching  the  Louvre. 
In  that  great  heaving  crowd,  wherein  all  the 
strength  of  France  was  gathered,  we  saw,  as  the 
wind  caught  the  banners  and  spread  them  to  the 
sunlight,  that  there  was  hardly  a  house  in  France 
but  was  represented  here,  from  the  lordly  seign- 
eurs of  Champagne  and  Guienne,  with  their 
splendid  foUowings,  to  the  poor  knights  of  Gas- 
cony  and  Beam,  who  had  not  a  tower  that  was 
not  in  ruins  amongst  them,  and  could  barely 
maintain  the  brace  of  starveling  lackeys  that  rode 
at  the  heels  of  each  of  these  lean-pursed  but  long- 
sworded  gentlemen.  Here  one  saw  the  white 
shield  of  Couci,  the  lilies  of  Conde,  the  griffins  of 
Epernon,  there  the  cross  of  Croye,  the  star  of 
d'Andelot,  the  red  hand  of  d'Auvergne,  and  the 
black  wolves  on  the  golden  shield  of  La  Roche- 
Guyon,  the  proudest  lord  of  Burgundy,  who 
traced  his  descent  far  back  into  the  mists  beyond 
the  middle  ages. 


200  THE  CHEVALIER  D'AURIAC 

Absorbed  as  I  was  in  my  own  troubles,  I  could 
not  restrain  a  feeling  of  pride  that  rose  within  me 
at  the  scene.  Down  through  that  roaring  crowd 
that  cheered  them  again  and  again  as  they  passed, 
it  was  as  if  all  the  old  historic  names  of  France 
had  gathered  to  do  honour  to  the  day.  And  I 
felt,  too,  as  I  looked  at  the  endless  sea  of  heads, 
that  this  was  no  longer  a  France  at  murderous 
war  with  itself,  but  a  united  and  powerful  na- 
tion that  was  being  led  onwards  to  its  destiny  by 
the  strong  hand  of  a  man  who  had  quenched  a 
fratricidal  struggle ;  and  for  the  moment  I  forgot 
how  small  he  could  be  who  was  yet  so  great. 

I  had  yet  to  learn  how  great  he  could  be ;  and 
here,  as  I  write  these  lines  in  my  study  in  the 
watch  tower  of  Auriac,  round  which  the  sea-gulls 
circle  and  scream,  my  old  eyes  grow  dim,  and  I 
lay  down  my  pen  and  wonder  for  a  moment  at 
His  will,  which  did  not  shield  that  brave  heart 
from  an  assassin's  blow. 

The  throng  was  so  thick  that  for  a  time  we 
were  unable  to  gain  a  passage,  and  were  com- 
pelled to  go  at  a  walking  pace,  and  Belin,  reining 
in  his  fretting  beast,  exclaimed,  '  Faith  !  'tis  the 
largest  gathering  I  have  ever  seen.' 

*A11  France  is  here  to-day,'  said  de  Valryn. 
*  There  go  d'Ossat,  and  his  Eminence  fresh  from 
the  Quirinal.' 

*  I  wonder  d'Ossat  did  not  win  his  red  hat  as 
well  as  Monseigneur  of  Evreux,'  said  de  Vitry. 

'  Ah  !  he  is  so  unlike  the  Cardinal,'  replied  de 
Valryn. 


THE  LOUVRE  201 

*  How  do  you  mean  ?  ' 

*  In  this  way.  His  Eminence  deceives  but  he 
never  lies  ;  the  Bishop,  on  the  other  hand,  lies, 
but  he  never  deceives.' 

*  It  would  cost  you  your  regiment  if  the  King 
heard  that,  de  Valryn.* 

*  On  the  contrary,  I  am  sure  it  will  get  to  his 
ears,  and  then  I  could  almost  hope  for  the  vacant 
baton,  though  'tis  said  that  is  already  in  Ornano's 
hand — see,  there  is  the  Constable's  banner  !' 

'  And  Bouillon  too — the  stormy  petrel  is  back 
from  Sedan — I  almost  sniff  war  in  the  air.' 

'  Oh,  he  has  taken  to  himself  a  wife — See  !  He 
has  quartered  the  arms  of  La  Marck  on  his  scutch- 
eon.' 

^  Si  dieu  ne  me  vult,  le  diable  me  prye^  said 
d'Aubusson,  reading  the  scroll  on  the  banner  of 
Turenne ;  and  then,  the  crowd  giving  way  for  a 
moment,  we  took  the  opportunity  and  passed 
through  the  gates  of  the  Louvre.  So  full  did  we 
find  the  Petite  Galerie  on  our  entrance,  that  it 
was  impossible  to  see  or  to  observe  who  was 
there,  and  all  that  I  was  conscious  of,  as  I  slowly 
made  my  way  forwards  at  the  heels  of  de  Belin, 
was  the  sound  of  music,  the  murmur  of  voices, 
and  the  rippling  of  gay  laughter.  In  front  of  us 
was  the  noble  stairway  that  led  to  the  Galerie 
d'Apollon,  and  between  the  silent  and  statue-like 
figures  of  the  King's  House  who  lined  the  steps, 
and  who  still  wore  their  violet  sashes  in  token  of 
mourning  for  the  death  of  Gabrielle,  there  seemed 
an  endless  train  of  men  and  women  advancing  up- 


202  THE   CHEVALIER  D'AURIAC 

wards.  Amongst  the  jewelled  clusters  of  fair 
and  dainty  dames,  my  eye  sought  in  vain  for  the 
face  of  Madame  ;  but  my  glance  was,  for  the  mo- 
ment, arrested  by  the  graceful  figure  of  the  cele- 
brated La  Noirmoutiers,  as,  with  one  arched  and 
scarlet-shod  foot  resting  on  the  white  marble  of 
the  topmost  step  of  the  stairway,  she  turned  to 
address  some  laughing  remark  to  the  cavalier 
who  was  her  escort.  I  had  not  seen  her  since  I 
was  a  boy  of  fifteen ;  but  years  had  not  changed 
her — her  eyes  were  as  lustrous,  her  cheeks  as 
pink  and  dimpled  as  when  she  trailed  the  honour 
of  Lorraine  in  the  dust,  and  broke  the  heart  of 
Joyeuse.  I  could  not  restrain  a  feeling  of  pity 
for  the  man  upon  whom  she  was  now  turning  the 
light  of  her  cruel  beauty,  for  there  was  that  in 
his  honest  eyes  that  showed  he  would  do  for  her 
what  Mornay,  what  Joyeuse,  what  Francis  of 
Lorraine  had  done. 

'  Who  is  the  man?'  I  bent  forward  and  whis- 
pered to  de  Belin. 

'  Poor  de  Rethelois,  who  held  La  Ffere  so  well 
against  us.  I  fear  he  will  find  holding  his  heart  a 
harder  task.' 

'  He  has  capitulated  already,  I  think,*  I  an- 
swered, and  then  she  rested  one  small  gloved 
hand  on  her  escort's  arm  and  they  passed  out  of 
sight. 

By  this  time  I  had  collected  myself  to  some  de- 
gree, and  began  to  try  and  rapidly  rehearse  in  my 
mind  what  I  should  say  when  I  came  face  to  face 
with  the  King,  but  I  am  not  ashamed  to  confess 


THE  LOUVRE  203 

that  at  each  attempt  I  found  myself  getting  more 
and  more  hopelessly  confused,  and  finally,  drop- 
ping the  effort,  determined  to  let  the  occasion 
find  its  own  words.  At  last  we  were  on  the  stair- 
way, and  in  twenty  steps  had  entered  the  great 
hall  which  Henry  had  built  himself,  and  which 
was  known  as  the  Galerie  d'Apollon.  Except  for 
the  vacant  space  round  the  still  empty  throne, 
the  full  length  of  its  seventy  yards  was  almostas 
much  crowded  as  the  hall  below;  but  here  the 
music  was  much  louder,  though  the  laughter  and 
talk  was  not  less  merry  and  incessant.  There 
was  not,  of  course,  nearly  so  much  movement, 
and  the  people  were  more  or  less  gathered  in  lit- 
tle knots  or  groups,  though  there  were  many  gay 
butterflies  flitting  from  one  of  these  to  the  other. 

*  Keep  by  me,*  said  de  Belin,  and  almost  as  he 
spoke  we  came  face  to  face  with  Tavannes,  de 
Gie,  and  de  Cosse-Brissac,  all  dressed  in  the  ex- 
treme of  fashion.  Belin  saluted  coldly,  but  my 
heart  warmed  towards  my  old  comrades  in  arms, 
and  I  stretched  out  my  hand.  This  de  Gie  took 
limply,  but  Tavannes  and  de  Cosse-Brissac  con- 
tented themselves  with  bows  of  the  politest  cere- 
mony. The  Vicompte  de  Gie  was,  however,  effu- 
sive in  speech  if  chill  in  manner. 

*  It  is  not  everyone  who  could  tear  a  hole  in  the 
Edict  as  you  have  done,  d'Auriac,'  he  said ;  and 
then  added  with  a  smile,  '  but  who  made  your 
cloak  ?     'Tis  a  trifle  longer  than  we  wear  it  here.* 

'  It  is  short  enough  for  me  to  see  the  King  in,'  I 
answered  a  little  crisply. 


204  THE  CHEVALIER  D'AURIAC 

*  The  King!'  exclaimed  both  Tavannes  and 
Brissac,  a  marked  interest  in  their  tones. 

*  My  dear  fellow/  said  de  Gie,  interrupting  my 
reply,  *  I  knew  you  would  fall  on  your  feet;  see 
here/  and  stepping  right  up  to  me,  he  threw  open 
my  cloak  slightly  with  a  turn  of  his  wrist,  *  wear 
it  so,  d'x\uriac ;  it  shows  your  cross  of  St.  Denis 
now.*  Then  dropping  his  voice,  '  friend  or  foe  ? 
Are  you  for  the  Marshal  or  the  Master-General?* 

*  I  am  here  for  a  short  time,'  I  replied.  '  I  have 
come  to  see  the  King.  I  neither  understand  nor 
care  about  your  intrigues.' 

*  I  understand  perfectly,  monsieur,'  he  said,  fall- 
ing back,  a  half-smile  on  his  lips,  and,  bowing  to 
each  other,  we  passed  on  in  different  ways,  they 
down,  and  I  up  the  hall  to  join  de  Belin,  who  had 
gone  a  few  paces  ahead. 

*  The  King  is  still  in  his  cabinet,'  he  said,  point- 
ing to  a  closed  door,  before  which  a  sentry  stood 
on  guard.  *  I  go  in  at  once.  When  I  come  out  let 
it  be  the  signal  for  you  to  join  me.  I  will  then 
present  you  ;  and  mind — speak  freely.' 

'  I  mean  to,'  I  answered,  and  with  a  nod  he 
passed  up  through  the  press.  I  leaned  against 
the  pillar  near  which  I  was  standing  and  surveyed 
the  crowd.  Madame  was  nowhere  there,  or  else 
I  had  missed  her.  Perhaps  it  was  better  so,  for 
did  I  see  her  I  might  be  unnerved ;  and  here  Bel- 
legarde  joined  me. 

*Do  you  see  her?'  he  asked. 

'  See  whom  ? '  I  answered,  with  a  start  and  an 
eager  look  around. 


THE  LOUVRE  205 

*  La  belle  Henriette.  See,  there  she  stands !  A 
little  court  around  her,  with  the  brightest  eyes 
and  the  sharpest  tongue  in  France.  I  wager  a 
hundred  pistoles  she  will  rule  us  all  some  day/ 

As  events  showed,  Bellegarde  was  right,  though 
that  concerns  not  this  story.  I  followed  his 
glance,  and  saw  Mademoiselle  d'Entragues  sur- 
rounded by  a  group  of  admirers,  with  whom 
she  was  bandying  jest  and  repartee.  I  saw  before 
me  a  tall,  slight  woman,  beautiful  in  a  wicked, 
imperious  way,  her  eyes  as  black  as  night,  and  her 
features  exquisite,  but  marred  in  every  line,  to  my 
mind,  by  their  look  of  pride.  I  never  saw  her 
again  but  once,  and  that  was  at  Bois  Lancy,  where 
the  once-powerful  Marquise  de  Verneuil  had  gone 
to  hide  her  shame. 

It  was  a  pleasanter  sight  to  turn  from  this  girl, 
who  was  even  then  weighing  the  price  of  her 
honour,  to  the  cluster  of  fair  faces  around  the 
tabouret  of  Madame  Catherine,  the  King's 
sister,  now  the  Duchesse  de  Bar.  Close  to  the 
Princess  was  Mary  of  Guise,  and  within  a  few  feet 
of  her  were  the  wives  and  daughters  of  Rohan, 
de  Pangeas,  de  Guiche,  and  d'Andelot.  I  did  not, 
of  course,  know  who  they  were,  but  Bellegarde 
pointed  them  out  one  by  one,  and  then  suddenly 
waved  his  hand  in  greeting  to  a  man. 

*  Ah,  there  is  Pimental!  one  moment,  chevalier,' 
and  he  left  me  to  join  his  friend.  I  was  again 
alone,  and  resigned  myself  to  patience,  when  a 
voice  seemed  to  whisper  over  my  shoulder : 

*  If  M.  le  Chevalier  will  kindly  survey  the  other 


2o6  THE   CHEVALIER   D'AURIAC 

side  of  the  room,  perhaps  he  will  be  equally  in- 
terested.* 

I  turned  round  sharply.  There  was  no  one 
whom  I  could  recognise  as  the  person  who  had 
addressed  me.  On  the  other  hand,  however,  I 
blessed  him  in  my  heart,  for  not  ten  feet  away  was 
Madame,  radiant  and  beautiful,  with  Palin  by  her 
side,  and  M.  d'Ayen,  with  his  arm  in  a  silken  sling, 
bowing  before  her.  He  was  pressing  the  tips  of 
her  fingers  to  his  lips  when  our  eyes  met,  and, 
drawing  away  her  hand,  she  made  a  half-move- 
ment towards  me.  I  was  by  her  side  in  a  mo- 
ment, and  as  we  shook  hands  she  said  with  a 
smile : 

'So  we  have  met  again,  chevalier!  In  the 
Louvre,  above  all  places  !  *  This  with  a  slight  ri- 
sing of  colour. 

'  I  thought  I  had  missed  you.  I  was  looking  for 
you  everywhere,  and  had  given  you  up.  I  of 
course  knew  you  were  in  Paris.* 

'  But  the  Rue  Varenne  was  too  distant  a  land  to 
journey  to?  Come,'  she  added  as  I  began  to  pro- 
test, '  give  me  your  arm  and  take  me  there  ' —  she 
indicated  the  upper  end  of  the  room — '  the  crush  is 
not  so  great  there.  It  is  frightful  here.  M.  d* Ayen 
will,  I  know,  excuse  me.* 

Here  d'Ayen,  who  stood  glaring  at  me  and  bi- 
ting at  the  red  feathers  in  his  hat  which  he  held  in 
his  hand,  interposed  : 

'  I  was  in  hopes  that  Madame  would  give  me 
the  pleasure,*  he  began. 

'  Another  day,  perhaps,  baron,*  I  cut  in  rudely 


THE  LOUVRE  207 

enough.  '  I  trust/  I  added  in  a  kinder  tone,  '  that 
your  arm  does  not  incommode  you?' 

*.lt  will  heal  soon/  he  said  in  a  thick  voice,  and 
turned  away  abruptly. 

'  He  is  very  angry,*  Madame  said,  following  him 
with  her  eyes. 

*  That  will  heal  too,  I  hope.  This  way  is  easi- 
est, I  think/  and  I  moved  onwards  with  my 
charge,  still,  however,  keeping  an  eye  on  the  door 
of  the  cabinet. 

*  Do  you  know,'  I  said  a  moment  or  so  later,  *  I 
am  indebted  to  an  unknown  friend  for  finding  out 
you  were  here  ?  ' 

'  Indeed  ! '  she  replied  seriously  enough,  though 
her  eyes  were  smiling ;  '  perhaps  I  ought  not  to 
tell  you,  but  I  saw  you  and  told  Coiffier  to  let  you 
know  I  was  here.' 

*  Coiffier,  the  astrologer !  * 

'  Yes — do  you  not  see  him  there  ?  He  is  a 
brother  of  Pantin,  and  devoted  to  my  house ;  a 
strange  man  though,  and  at  times  I  almost  fear 
him.' 

I  looked  in  the  direction  she  indicated,  and  saw 
a  tall  man,  dressed  like  any  ordinary  cavalier  of 
the  court,  except  for  his  cloak,  which  was  of  ex- 
treme length,  and  fell  almost  to  his  heels.  He, 
however,  wore  no  sword,  but  held  in  his  hand  a 
small  rod  of  ebony,  with  a  golden  ball  at  the  end. 
This  was  the  celebrated  astrologer  Coiffier,  who 
had  foretold  the  death  of  Henry  HI.,  and  who,  it 
is  said,  never  died,  but  was  taken  away  bodily  by 
the  Evil  One.     How  far  this  is  true  I  know  not, 


208  THE   CHEVALIER  D'AURIAC 

but  it  was  common  report  when  he  disappeared 
for  ever. 

*  He  is  much  unlike  Pantin,'  I  remarked  ;  *  no 
one  would  take  them  for  brothers/ 

'  And  yet  they  are — and  Pantin  always  says  he 
is  the  younger,  too/ 

And  now,  as  we  made  our  way  slowly  towards 
the  upper  end  of  the  room,  I  began  to  get  tongue- 
tied,  and  Madame,  too,  said  nothing.  Finally,  I 
blurted  out,  '  1  am  to  see  the  King  in  a  few  mi- 
nutes.' 

She  looked  down  and  half-whispered,  *  God 
give  you  success.' 

'  Amen  ! '  I  echoed  to  her  prayer. 

And  then,  in  a  way  that  people  have  when 
their  hearts  are  full  of  grave  things,  we  began  to 
talk  of  matters  light  as  air. 

'  The  King  is  late  to-day,'  Madame  said,  glanc- 
ing at  the  still  closed  door  of  the  cabinet,  near 
which  a  curious  crowd  had  gathered;  'perhaps 
the  cinque-pace  will  not  come  off,'  she  ran  on, 
*  Monsieur  de  Guiche  told  me  that  the  King  was 
to  open  it  with  Mademoiselle  d'Entragues.  Do 
you  not  see  her  there  ?  That  lovely,  black-eyed 
girl,  talking  to  half-a-dozen  people  at  once.' 

'  Is  she  so  very  beautiful  ?  ' 

'  What  a  question  to  ask  !  I  do  not  see  a  woman 
in  the  room  to  compare  with  her.' 

*  To  my  mind  her  profile  is  too  hard.' 

*  Indeed  ! '  Madame's  face,  with  its  soft  though 
clear  outlines,  was  half  turned  from  me  as  she 
spoke.     '  I  suppose,  then,  you  do  not  care  for  her 


THE  LOUVRE  209 

— a  man  never  thinks  with  a  woman  in  the  matter 
of  beauty.  But  I  did  think  you  would  admire 
Mademoiselle.* 

*  Why  should  I,  even  supposing  she  was  beauti- 
ful?    To  my  mind  there  are  two  kinds  of  beauty.' 

And  here  I  was  interrupted  by  the  sound  of 
cheering  from  the  Petite  Galerie,  and  the  sudden 
hush  that  fell  on  the  room.  As  we  moved  down 
to  see  for  whom  the  crush  was  parting  on  either 
side,  we  discovered  that  it  was  the  Marshal  him- 
self, and  close  at  his  heels  were  Lafin,  with  his 
sinister  smile,  and  a  dozen  gentlemen,  amongst 
whom  I  observed  the  grim  figure  of  Adam  de 
Gomeron.  Madame  saw  the  free-lance,  too,  and 
then  turned  her  eyes  to  mine.  She  read  the  un. 
spoken  question  in  my  look,  her  eyes  met  mine, 
and  through  her  half-parted  lips  a  low  whisper 
came  to  me — '  Never — never.* 

*  They  are  coming  straight  towards  us,*  I  said, 
*  we  will  stand  here  and  let  them  pass,*  and  with 
her  fingers  still  resting  on  my  arm  we  moved  a 
pace  or  so  aside.  As  Biron  came  up  there  was 
almost  a  shout  of  welcome,  and  he  bowed  to  the 
right  and  left  of  him  as  though  he  were  the  King 
himself.  He  was  then  the  foremost  subject  in 
France,  and  in  the  heyday  of  his  strength  and 
power.  In  person  he  was  of  middle  height,  but 
carried  himself  with  unexampled  grace  and  dig- 
nity of  manner.  His  short  beard  was  cut  to  a 
peak,  and  from  beneath  his  straight  eyebrows, 
his  keen  and  deep-set  eyes,  those  eyes  which 
Marie   de    Medici   said   hall  -  marked   him   for  a 

14 


2IO  THE   CHEVALIER   D'AURIAC 

traitor,  avec  ses  yeux  noirs  enfonc^s,  seemed  to  turn 
their  searchlights  here,  there,  and  everywhere  at 
once.  His  dress,  like  all  about  the  man,  was  full 
of  display.  He  wore  a  suit  of  grey  satin,  a  short 
black  velvet  cloak  held  by  a  splendid  emerald  and 
diamond  clasp,  and  carried  a  hat  plumed  with 
white  and  black  feathers.  His  sword  hilt  and  the 
buckles  on  his  shoes  flashed  with  gems.  As  he 
came  onwards,  making  straight  for  the  door  of 
the  cabinet,  Coiffier  stepped  out  of  the  crowd  and 
held  him  lightly  by  his  cloak.  The  Marshal 
turned  on  him  sharply :  *  Let  me  go,  I  have  no 
time  for  mummeries.'  '  Very  well,  my  lord,  only 
I  should  advise  Monseigneur  never  again  to  wear 
a  suit  such  as  he  is  attired  in  at  present.' 

Biron  stopped,  and  we  all  gathered  closer. 

'  Why,  Coiffier? '  he  asked,  in  a  tone  of  affected 
gaiety,  but  with  a  nervous  manner. 

*  Because,  monseigneur,  I  dreamed  that  I  saw 
you  early  one  morning  standing,  dressed  as  you 
are  just  now,  by  the  block  in  the  yard  of  the  Bas- 
tille.' 

One  or  two  of  the  women  almost  shrieked,  and 
a  murmur  went  up  from  those  who  heard  the 
words.  As  for  the  Marshal,  his  face  grew  pale 
and  then  flushed  darkly. 

*  You  are  mad,  my  friend,'  he  said  hoarsely,  and 
then,  with  his  head  down,  went  straight  to  the 
door  of  the  cabinet.  It  seemed  to  open  of  its  own 
accord  as  he  came  up  to  it,  and,  leaving  his  suite 
behind,  he  passed  in  to  the  King. 

Little   did   I  think  of  the  prophecy  until   that 


THE  LOUVRE  211 

August  dawn,  when  I  stood  by  the  side  of  the 
Lieutenant  of  Montigny  and  saw  the  head  of 
Charles  de  Gontaut,  Due  de  Biron,  and  Marshal 
of  France,  held  up  to  the  shuddering  spectators  in 
the  red  hand  of  Monsieur  of  Paris. 

*  It  almost  seems  as  if  I  shall  not  have  my  in- 
terview/ I  said  to  Madame  a  minute  or  so  la- 
ter, when  the  commotion  caused  by  Coiffier  had 
ceased. 

'  When  were  you  to  go  in  ?  '  she  asked. 

*  As  soon  as  ever  M.  de  Belin  came  out  to  sum- 
mon me.' 

'  Then  here  he  is,'  and  as  she  spoke  I  saw  the 
door  open,  and  Belin  looked  out.  *  Go,'  she  said, 
and  then  our  eyes  met  and  I  stepped  up  to  the 
cabinet. 

*  Courage,*  whispered  Belin,  and  I  was  before 
the  King.  In  the  first  two  steps  I  took  on  ente- 
ring the  room,  I  perceived  that  there  had  been  a 
scene ;  Sully  was  standing  against  the  open  win- 
dow, his  back  to  the  light,  and  gravely  stroking 
his  beard.  The  Marshal  was  pacing  backwards 
and  forwards  in  an  agitated  manner,  and  the  King 
himself  was  leaning  against  a  high  desk,  beating 
a  tattoo  with  his  fingers  on  the  veneer. 

As  de  Belin  presented  me,  I  bent  to  my  knee, 
and  there  was  a  dead  silence,  broken  only  by 
Henry  renewing  the  quick,  impatient  tapping  of 
his  fingers  on  the  woodwork  of  the  desk.  He 
was,  what  was  unusual  with  him  when  in  Paris, 
in  half  armour,  and  perhaps  in  compliment  to  the 
King  of  Spain,  for  it  was  the  anniversary  of  the 


212  THE   CHEVALIER  D'AURIAC 

treaty  of  Vervins,  wore  the  scarlet  and  ermine- 
lined  mantle  of  the  Toison  d'Or.  In  the  silence  my 
eyes  unconsciously  caught  the  glitter  of  the  collar, 
and  I  could  almost  read  the  device,  ^  Pretimn  non 
vile  laborumy  on  the  pendant  fleece. 

'  You  may  rise,  monsieur,'  the  King  said  at  last 
coldly,  and  added,  '  and  you  may  speak.  It  is 
because  I  understand  that  you  broke  the  laws  un- 
wittingly that  I  have  for  the  moment  excused  you 
— now  what  have  you  to  say?' 

As  he  spoke  his  piercing  eyes  met  me  full  in  the 
face,  and  for  the  moment  I  could  not  find  words. 

*  Ventre  St,  Gris  !  '  and  Henry  picked  up  a  melo- 
cotin  from  a  salver  that  was  by  him  and  played 
with  it  between  his  fingers  ;  '  you  could  not  have 
been  born  under  the  two  cows  on  a  field  or^  else 
you  would  have  found  tongue  ere  this,  M.  d'Au- 
riac.     You  are  not  of  the  south,  are  you?' 

*  No,  sire,  though  my  father  was  Governor  of 
Provence,  and  married  into  the  Foix  Candale.' 

*  If  so,  you  should  be  a  perfect  Chrysostom. 
What  have  you  to  say  ? ' 

I  had  regained  my  courage  by  this  and  took 
the  matter  in  both  hands.  *  Your  Majesty,  I  will 
speak — I  charge  the  Marshal,  Due  de  Biron,  with 
being  a  traitor  to  you  and  to  France,  I  charge 
him  with  conspiring ' 

'  You  liar  ! ' 

It  was  Biron's  voice,  furious  and  cracked  with 
rage,  that  rang  through  the  room  ;  but  Henry 
stopped  him  with  a  word,  and  then  I  went  on  re- 
peating exactly  what  is  known,  and  what  I  have 


THE  LOUVRE  213 

described  before.  When  it  was  over  the  King 
turned  to  the  Marshal,  who  burst  out  in  a  passion 
of  upbraiding,  calling  God  and  his  own  services 
to  witness  that  his  hands  were  clean,  '  and  is  the 
word  of  this  man  to  be  believed?  '  he  concluded, 
'  this  man  who  was  openly  in  arms  against  his 
King,  who  is  known  as  a  brawler  in  the  streets, 
who  is  even  now  trying  to  win  the  hand  of  a 
royal  ward  with  not  a  penny  piece  to  line  his 
doublet  pockets,  who  is  excluded  from  the  King's 
Peace — is  his  oath  to  be  taken  before  the  word  of 
a  peer  of  France  ?  Sire,  my  father  died  by  your 
side — and  I — I  will  say  no  more.  Believe  him  if 
you  will.  Here  is  my  sword  !  It  has  served  you 
well,'  and  unbuckling  his  sword  the  Marshal  flung 
himself  on  his  knees  before  the  King  and  pre- 
sented him  with  the  hilt  of  his  blade. 

Astonished  and  silenced  by  this  audacious  out- 
burst, I  could  say  nothing,  but  saw  Sully  and  de 
Belin  exchange  a  strange  smile.  The  King,  how- 
ever, was  much  moved.  Putting  his  hands  on 
Biron's  shoulders,  he  lifted  him  to  his  feet. 
*  Biron,  my  old  friend,'  he  said, '  the  oaths  of  this 
man  and  of  a  hundred  such  as  he  are  but  as  a 
feather  weight  against  your  simple  word.  Mes- 
sieurs, it  is  because  I  wished  the  Marshal  to  know 
that  I  would  hear  nothing  behind  a  man's  back 
that  I  would  not  repeat  to  his  own  face  that  I 
have  allowed  M.  d'Auriac  a  free  rein  to  his 
tongue.  In  fine,  I  believe  no  word  of  this  in- 
credible tale.  M.  d'Auriac,'  and  he  turned  to  me, 
'  I  give  you  twenty-four  hours  to  quit  France,  and 


214  THE  CHEVALIER  D'AURIAC 

never  cross  my  path  again.'  And  here  the  reck- 
less Biron  interposed  hotly,  '  But  I  must  have 
satisfaction,  sire/ 

'  Is  it  not  satisfaction  enough  to  know  that  the 
King  believes  3^our  word  ?  '  said  Sully. 

*  That  may  do  for  the  house  of  Bethune,  but  not 
for  Biron.* 

The  taunt  told.  It  was  the  one  tender  point 
with  the  great  minister.  '  The  house  of  Bethune,' 
he  began. 

'  Was  old  with  the  Ark,  due — we  all  know 
that,'  said  Henry ;  *  but  truly  I  know  not  what 
satisfaction  the  Marshal  wants.' 

'  If  not  for  me,  sire,  for  my  friends.  There  is 
M.  de  Gomeron  who  has  been  much  wronged 
too.' 

*  I  see,  you  are  coming  to  the  old  point  again. 
I  tell  you,  Biron,  plainly,  and  once  for  all,  I  will 
not  have  it — my  word  is  given  to  d'Ayen.  And 
now  let  us  go.' 

When  the  King  had  warned  me  out  of  France, 
I  had  made  a  half-movement  to  bow  and  retire 
and  then  glanced  round  to  Belin  for  a  hint  as  to 
what  I  should  do.  I  could  not  see  him,  and  not 
knowing  whether  to  leave  the  cabinet  or  not,  I 
remained  standing  irresolutely  where  I  was,  and 
thus  was  a  witness  to  the  little  passage  described 
above.  As  Henry  refused  Biron's  request  he, 
however,  at  the  same  time  linked  his  arm  in  that 
of  the  Marshal,  and  stepped  towards  the  door  of 
the  cabinet.  Sully  followed  immediately  behind, 
and  I  brought  up  the  rear. 


THE  LOUVRE  215 

In  this  manner  we  entered  the  Galerie  d*Apol- 
lon,  and  as  we  passed  in  the  King  looked  round 
and  saw  me.  He  stared  hard  for  a  moment,  and 
then  said  in  loud  tones,  *  Twenty -four  hours  is  a 
short  time  to  reach  the  frontier,  M.  d^Auriac,'  and 
then  he  turned  his  back  on  me. 

Everyone  heard  the  words,  and  I  caught  de 
Gie's  mocking  voice  as  he  spoke  to  Mademoiselle 
d*Entragues,  '  His  cloak  was  short  enough  to  see 
the  King  in,  I  observe,*  and  then  there  was  a 
feminine  titter. 

With  my  heart  boiling  with  rage  I  made  for 
the  stairway.  I  did  not  dare  to  look  for  Madame. 
There  was  enough  despair  on  my  face  to  enable 
her  to  read  it  like  a  book  were  she  to  see  me,  and 
I  had  no  doubt  she  had.  I  felt  I  had  miserably 
failed.  There  was  one  chance,  however,  and  that 
was  to  urge  her  to  instant  flight,  and  I  determined 
to  ride  straight  to  the  Rue  Varenne  and  there 
await  either  Madame's  or  Palin's  return  and  in- 
duce them  to  adopt  this  course. 

At  this  moment  someone  came  in  my  way,  and, 
stepping  aside  to  let  him  pass,  I  caught  sight  of 
Madame  with  both  de  Belin  and  the  Huguenot 
at  her  side.  She  was  not  three  feet  from  me,  and 
held  out  her  hand  saying,  *  Courage  ;  I  know  all/ 
I  held  her  small  fingers  for  a  moment,  and  then 
the  ribbon  by  which  her  fan  was  slung  to  her 
wrist  somehow  slipped  and  the  fan  fell  to  the 
ground.  I  picked  it  up,  and,  on  handing  it  to 
her,  caught  a  whisper,  '  Coiffier,  to-night,'  and 
then   with   a  bow  I   went  on.     Ten  steps  more 


2l6  THE   CHEVALIER  D^AURIAC 

brought  me  to  the  head  of  the  stairway,  and 
Coiffier  was  standing  there.  *  Would  you  have 
your  fortune  told,  monsieur?'  he  asked. 

'  Will  to-night  suit  you  ? '  I  answered,  taking 
his  humour. 

*  To-night  will  be  too  late,  monsieur  le  cheva- 
lier. Look  in  that  as  you  ride  home  and  you  will 
see — and  now  go.' 

With  a  turn  of  his  wrist  he  produced  a  small 
red  ball  of  polished  wood  and  placed  it  in  my 
hands,  and  then  moved  backwards  amongst  the 
crowd. 

It  did  not  take  me  five  minutes  more  to  find 
Couronne,  but  as  I  turned  her  head  on  reaching 
the  gates  of  the  town  towards  the  river  face,  I 
heard  de  Belin's  quiet  voice  behind  : 

*  Not  that  way,  d'Auriac  ;  you  come  with  me.* 


CHAPTER   XIV 

UNDER   THE   LIMES 

It  mattered  little  to  me  if  I  rode  a  portion  of 
my  way  back  with  de  Belin,  and  so  I  turned 
Couronne's  head  as  he  wished.  Before  setting 
off,  however,  he  gave  some  rapid  and  whispered 
orders  to  Vallon,  emphasising  them  with  a  loud 
'  Quick,  mind  you,  and  do  not  fail/ 

'  It  is  not  likely,  monsieur,'  answered  Vallon, 
and  then  set  off. 

The  crowd  was  as  great  as  ever,  and  we  were 
compelled  to  go  slowly.  Looking  for  a  moment 
to  my  right  as  we  went  forwards,  I  saw  Vallon 
making  as  much  haste  as  he  could  in  the  delivery 
of  his  message,  and  I  wished  to  myself  that  my 
own  stout-hearted  knave  were  with  me.  One 
blade  such  as  his  was  worth  a  half-dozen  hired 
swords. 

It  was  my  intention  to  leave  de  Belin  at  his 
hotel  and  make  my  way  as  quickly  as  possible  to 
my  lodging,  and  thence,  taking  the  risk  of  the 
King's  warning,  go  straight  to  the  Rue  Varenne 
and  urge  Madame  to  instant  flight.  My  house  of 
cards  had  come  down,  a  fluttering  heap,  as  the 
first  story  was  raised,  and  to  my  mind  there  was 
nothing  for  it  but  a  sharp  spur  and  a  loose  rein. 

217 


2l8  THE  CHEVALIER  D'AURIAC 

I  wished,  too,  for  a  moment  of  leisure  to  examine 
Coiffier*s  gift.  I  had  little  doubt  that  it  conveyed 
a  message  or  a  warning,  and  the  sooner  I  got  at 
its  contents  the  better. 

In  the  meantime  Belin  rode  by  my  side,  whist- 
ling a  march  to  himself,  whilst  a  couple  of  lackeys 
immediately  behind  us  shouted  themselves  hoarse 
with  an  insistent  '  Way,  way  for  Monsieur  le 
Compte !  * 

This  cry  of  theirs  was  being  constantly  echoed 
by  a  Capuchin,  who,  mounted  on  a  mule,  with  his 
hood  drawn  over  his  face  so  as  to  show  little  but 
his  eyes  and  a  portion  of  a  grey  beard,  kept  alter- 
nately flinging  an  '  Ave  !  *  and  a  *  Way  !  way  ! '  to 
the  crowd,  the  whiles  he  stuck  close  to  our  heels, 
having  evidently  made  up  his  mind  to  follow  the 
old  saw — the  stronger  the  company  the  freer  the 
road. 

I  know  not  why  it  was,  but  the  jingling  notes 
of  the  tune  my  friend  whistled  irritated  me  be- 
yond measure,  and  at  last,  at  the  corner  of  the 
Rue  Perrault,  I  could  stand  it  no  longer,  and, 
reining  in,  held  out  my  hand. 

'  I  must  say  good-bye  here,  Belin.  We  will 
meet  again,  and  meet  in  better  times,  I  trust,  for 
me.  In  the  meanwhile  let  me  thank  you,  my 
friend.  The  rest  of  my  business  lies  in  my  own 
hand.* 

He  laughed  and  said,  *  Not  yet  good-bye ;  and 
as  for  your  business,  there  is  some  of  it  in  Coif- 
fier's  wooden  ball.  I  would  open  that  here  before 
you  decide  to  leave  me.* 


UNDER    THE  LIMES  219 

*  Morbleu  !  You  all  seem  to  be  determined  to 
speak  to  me  in  riddles.  Why  can  you  not  say 
plainly  what  you  mean  ?  And,  besides,  this  is  no 
place  to  read/ 

*  It  is  as  good  as  any  other.  See  here,  d'Auriac ! 
I  slipped  out  of  the  King*s  cabinet  as  he  spoke  to 
you,  and  told  Madame  how  your  affair  was  pro- 
gressing. She  herself  had  something  to  com- 
municate to  you.  The  matter  was  pressing,  and 
as  things  stood  she  could  not  tell  you  there.  As 
for  your  being  treated  like  a  pawn,  I  give  you  my 
word  it  was  beyond  me  to  help  that.  But  if  you 
come  with  me  you  will  learn  many  things  within 
the  hour.  In  the  meantime  open  the  ball,  man  ! 
It  was  a  lucky  thing  Coiffier  was  there.' 

Without  any  further  hesitation  I  drew  forth 
Coiffier's  gift.  It  was,  as  I  have  said,  a  hollow, 
wooden  globe,  and  was  made  in  two  parts,  which 
could  be  joined  together  or  separated  by  a  turn 
of  the  wrist.  I  held  it  in  my  hands  for  a  moment 
or  so  and  then  opened  it,  and  had  just  pulled  forth 
the  paper  it  contained,  when  by  ill  chance,  as  it 
seemed,  the  Capuchin,  who  was  urging  his  mule 
past  us,  brushed  violently  against  my  horse,  with 
the  result  that  the  paper  slipped  from  between 
my  fingers  and  fluttered  to  earth.  Couronne,  after 
her  first  start,  was  steady  enough,  biit  the  monk's 
ill-conditioned  mule  kicked  and  plunged,  bring- 
ing him  apparently  heavily  to  the  ground.  He 
fell  exactly  over  the  paper  and  lay  there  for  a 
moment,  face  downwards,  resting  on  one  elbow. 
I  sprang  down,  as  much  to  get  the  paper  as  to  as- 


220  THE   CHEVALIER  D'AURIAC 

sist  him,  but  as  I  did  so,  he  scrambled  to  his  feet 
with  *  A  hundred  pardons,  monsieur,  for  my 
clumsiness,'  and  then  hastily  turned  and  hurried 
after  his  mule,  which  was  already  many  yards 
ahead,  behaving  after  its  kind,  and  whose  speed 
was  not  diminished  by  the  sticks,  stones,  and 
oaths  flung  at  him  ;  and  there  was  a  roar  of 
laughter — a  mob  will  laugh  or  hiss  at  the  merest 
trifles — as  the  lank  figure  of  the  Capuchin  sped 
along  in  pursuit  of  his  beast  and  vanished  after 
him  down  a  side  street. 

Belin  himself  joined  in  the  merriment,  and  I 
picked  up  the  paper,  muddy  and  much  soiled. 
Smoothening  it  out  against  the  flap  of  my  saddle, 
I  made  out  the  words,  '  To-night,  under  the  limes 
in  the  Tuileries — at  compline^  There  was  no  doubt 
about  the  writing,  and,  thrusting  the  precious 
scrap  into  my  breast-pocket,  I  remounted.  As  I 
did  so  de  Belin  said : 

'  Well,  have  you  changed  your  plans?  * 

*  Partly,  but  I  think  I  shall  go  back  to  my  lodg- 
ing.* 

'  Do  nothing  of  the  kind  as  yet.  I  have  asked 
Pantin  to  meet  us  at  the  Two  Ecus,  your  own 
ordinary.  Vallon  has  gone  to  call  him.  You 
can  give  him  any  orders  there.  You  owe  me  as 
much  as  to  yield  to  me  in  this.* 

It  would  have  been  ungracious  not  to  have 
agreed,  and  I  told  Lisois  I  would  go  with  him. 

'  Hasten,  then  !  The  road  is  clearer  now,  thanks 
to  the  Capuchin,  or  rather  to  his  mule.  By  the 
way,  did  you  see  the  monk's  face  ? ' 


UNDER    THE  LIMES  221 

'No!' 

*  A  pity  !  I  tried  to,  but  failed  in  the  attempt. 
His  voice  was  familiar  to  me,  and  he  seemed  won- 
derfully active  for  an  old  man/ 

*  You  are  suspicion  itself,  Belin/ 

'  I  have  slept  with  the  dogs  and  risen  with  the 
fleas.  Harkee,  Hubert !  And  you,  Pierre !  If 
you  see  that  Capuchin  again  let  me  know  at 
once ;  keep  your  eyes  open.  If  you  can  persuade 
him  to  speak  to  me,  it  will  be  worth  five  crowns 
a-piece  to  you.* 

'  Monsieur's  wishes  shall  be  obeyed,'  said  both 
men  in  a  breath,  and  now  finding  the  road  free 
enough  we  set  off  at  a  canter,  and  kept  the  pace 
up  until  almost  at  the  door  of  the  Two  Ecus. 

As  we  pulled  up  at  the  ordinary  and  dis- 
mounted, Belin  exclaimed  :  *  Now  for  our  supper. 
I  am  of  those  who  can  only  fight  under  a  full 
belt,  and  I  would  advise  you,  d'Auriac — you  who 
will  have  fighting  to  do  very  soon  perhaps — to 
follow  my  advice,  and  make  the  best  use  you  can 
of  your  knife.' 

I  laughed  out  some  reply,  and  then,  turning  to 
mine  host,  ordered  refreshment  for  both  man  and 
beast,  and  directed  that  our  supper  should  be 
served  in  a  private  room. 

*  And  observe,'  cut  in  Belin,  '  if  Maitre  Pantin 
arrives,  let  him  be  shown  up  to  us  at  once.' 

*  Monsieur.' 

Before  we  went  in  de  Belin  asked  his  men  if 
they  had  seen  any  more  of  the  monk,  and  received 
an  answer  in   the   negative.     Bidding   them   re- 


222  THE   CHEVALIER   D'AURIAC 

member  his  orders  on  the  subject,  he  linked  his 
arm  in  mine  and  we  went  within. 

*  You  seem  in  a  way  about  the  monk,'  I  said. 

'  My  dear  friend,  I  cannot  get  it  out  of  my 
head  that  I  have  seen  him  before,  and  I  don't  like 
a  riddle  like  that  to  be  unsolved.* 

*  This  comes  of  your  court  intrigues,  de  Belin. 
You  were  not  wont  to  be  so.' 

*  Other  times,  other  manners,'  he  answered,  a 
little  grimly,  and  we  sat  at  our  table. 

How  well  do  I  remember  that  small  room  in 
the  Two  Ecus,  with  the  dark  oak  wainscoting, 
the  furniture  that  age  had  polished,  the  open  win- 
dow showing  the  yellow  sunset  between  the  high- 
roofed  and  many-gabled  houses,  the  red  Fronti- 
gnac  sparkling  like  rubies  in  our  long -necked 
glasses,  and  the  deft  service  of  Susette,  the  land- 
lord's daughter,  whose  pretty  lips  pouted  with 
disappointment,  because  no  notice  was  taken  of 
her  good  looks  by  the  two  cavaliers  who  supped 
together,  whose  faces  were  so  grave,  and  whose 
speech  was  in  tones  so  low  as  to  be  heard  only  by 
each  other.  At  last  we  were  left  to  ourselves, 
and  Belin,  who  had  been  explaining  many  things 
to  me  that  I  knew  not  before,  suddenly  rose  and 
began  to  pace  the  room,  saying :  '  You  take  the 
position  now,  d'Auriac.  If  not,  let  me  put  the 
points  again  before  you  briefly.  There  are  men 
like  Sully,  Villeroi,  Forget,  and  I  myself,  who  un- 
derstand and  grasp  the  King's  views,  and  know 
that  if  he  has  his  way  France  will  be  the  greatest 
country  on  earth.     On  the  other  hand,  Henry  is 


UNDER    THE  LIMES  223 

bound  by  ties  of  much  service  rendered  to  him 
by  men  like  Sancy,  who  disgraces  his  name  by 
plundering  the  state,  and  Zamet,  who  cannot  dis- 
grace himself  by  anything  he  does.  These  men, 
and  such  as  they,  exhaust  our  resources  if  they 
do  nothing  else,  and  serve  the  cause  of  the  great 
nobles,  such  as  Epernon,  Turenne,  Tremouille, 
and  above  all  Biron,  whose  ambition  knows  no 
bounds,  and  who,  I  am  certain,  will  never  be  still 
unless  his  head  is  on  a  crown-piece  or  else  on  the 
block/ 

'  But  what  has  that  to  do  with  me?* 

'  Listen  !  Great  as  the  King  is,  he  has  one  fai- 
ling— you  know  what  it  is;  and  it  is  on  this  the 
Sancys  and  Birons  play.  To  carry  out  his  own 
designs  it  is  necessary  that  Henry  should  be 
saved  from  himself.  The  Italian  embassy  is  with 
us,  and  whilst  d'Ossat  and  the  Cardinal  performed 
the  ostensible  object  of  their  mission,  they  affected 
another  and  secret  object — and  that  was  the  ar- 
rangement of  the  King's  marriage  with  Marie  de 
Medici.' 

'  The  King's  marriage  !  * 

'  Yes.' 

'  But  the  Queen  still  lives.' 

*  And  long  may  she  live ;  but  not  as  Queen.* 
'Ah!' 

*  Exactly ;  you  begin  to  see  now.  If  we  can 
make  this  move  we  get  the  support  of  the  Quiri- 
nal,  and,  more,  the  help  of  the  Florentine  coffers. 
We  will  paralyse  the  great  conspiracy  which 
Biron  heads — rather  a  league  than  a  conspiracy. 


224  THE   CHEVALIER  D'AURIAC 

We  can  dispense  with  the  expensive  services  of 
Sancy,  of  Ornano,  and  of  Zamet,  and  then  Henry 
will  be  free  to  carry  out  his  great  designs.* 
'  If,  however,  Biron  is  as  strong  as  you  say  ?  * 

*  Permit  me — we  are  providing  for  that.  He 
has  been  kept  close  to  the  King.  Sully,  as  Master- 
General  of  the  ordnance,  has  ordered  the  guns  at 
Dijon  to  be  sent  to  Paris  with  a  view  of  replacing 
them  with  new  ones.  None  are  going,  and  by  the 
time  that  the  King's  betrothal  is  announced,  Bun 
gundy  will  be  as  much  Henry's  as  it  is  the  Mar 
shal's  now.' 

*  But  he  will  believe  nothing  against  Biron.' 

'  Other  people  have  nursed  vipers  before,  but 
the  King  is  not  himself  now.  He  can  think  of 
nothing  but  one  thing.  See  here,  d'Auriac,  1  have 
helped  you  for  two  reasons:  one,  because  I  love 
France  ;  and  the  other,  because  I  love  you.  Hen- 
ry has  ordered  the  marriage  of  Madame  de  Bi- 
dache  with  d'Ayen  to  be  celebrated  to-morrow. 
He  gave  that  order  to-day,  to  put  an  end  to  the 
importunities  of  the  Marshal  in  regard  to  de 
Gomeron.  I  know  this,  and  Madame  knows  it 
too.  In  plain  language  you  must  play  a  bold 
stroke  for  the  woman  you  love — take  her  away 
to-night.' 

*That  was  partly  arranged — we  are  to  go  to 
Switzerland.' 

'  You  will  never  reach  the  frontier.  Look — 
there  is  my  castle  of  Mourmeton  in  Champagne. 
It  is  old  and  half  in  ruins.  See,  here  is  my  signet. 
Take  it,  show  it  to  Gringel,  the  old  forester  there 


UNDER    THE  LIMES  22$ 

— he  will  take  you  to  a  hiding  place.  Stay  there 
until  the  affair  blows  over,  and  then  to  Switzer- 
land or  elsewhere,  if  you  will ;  in  the  mean- 
time I  pledge  you  the  faith  of  de  Belin  that 
no  stone  will  be  left  unturned  to  effect  your  par- 
don.' 

I  took  the  ring  he  gave  me  and  slipped  it  on, 
and  then  our  hands  met  in  a  hearty  clasp  that  ex- 
pressed more  than  words.  It  was  at  this  moment 
that  Susette  announced  Pantin,  and  the  little 
notary  came  in  with  his  quick,  short  step. 

*  I  am  late,  messieurs,  I  know,'  he  said,  *  but  I 
was  not  at  home  when  Vallon  arrived,  or  else  I 
had  been  here  sooner.' 

*  You  are  in  ample  time  for  what  we  want.  Pan- 
tin,'  I  said,  '  though  there  is  no  time  to  waste.  I 
am  leaving  Paris  to-night,  and  will  not  return  to 
the  Rue  des  Deux  Mondes,  but  start  from  here. 
My  business  concerns  the  safety  and  honour  of 
Madame  de  la  Bidache,  and  when  I  say  that  I 
know  I  can  rely  on  you.     Is  it  not  so  ? ' 

*  It  is,  monsieur.' 

*  Well,  then,  should  anyone  ask  for  me,  say  I 
have  gone  you  know  not  where.  You  do  not 
know,  as  a  matter  of  fact.  If  Jacques,  my  servant, 
returns,  bid  him  go  straight  to  M.  le  Compte.  He 
will  get  orders  from  him.' 

'  I  understand  perfectly,  monsieur.' 
'  There  is  yet  another  thing.     Hasten  to  Maitre 
Palin  and  bid  him  await  me  now  outside  the  Porte 
St.  Denis  with  two  spare  horses;  he  will  under- 
stand what  I  mean.     And  now,  my  friend,  adieu. 
15 


226  THE   CHEVALIER  D'AURIAC 

This  will  pay  what  I  owe  you/  and  I  thrust  a 
half-dozen  pistoles  into  his  hand. 

But  he  resolutely  refused.  '  No,  no,  monsieur 
le  chevalier.* 

'But  dame  Annette?'  interposed  Belin. 

*  Um  ! '  said  the  notary,  scratching  his  chin,  'that 
is  another  matter.  I  had  for  the  moment  forgot- 
ten I  was  a  married  man.  Very  well,  monsieur, 
I  will  take  the  money — not  that  I  need  it,  but  for 
the  sake  of  peace  ;  and  now  there  is  little  time  to 
lose.  I  go  to  do  all  you  have  asked  me  to,  and 
rest  assured,  messieurs,  it  will  be  faithfully  done.' 

'  I  have  no  doubt  of  that,  Pantin.* 

*  We  had  better  make  a  start,  too,'  I  said,  and 
Belin  shouted  for  the  horses.  We  stayed  for  a 
moment  or  so  after  the  notary's  departure,  during 
which  time  Belin  urged  me  to  take  Vallon  and 
a  couple  of  men  w^ith  me  to  my  tryst,  but,  fearing 
no  complications,  I  refused,  saying  that  this  was 
a  matter  that  were  best  done  with  one  hand.  Be- 
lin would  have  come  himself  but  that,  his  friend- 
ship with  me  being  known,  it  was  necessary  for 
him  to  avoid  all  suspicion  of  his  being  in  the 
affair. 

*  I  shall  go  to  the  Louvre,'  he  said,  '  and  engage 
d'Ayen  at  play.  Pimental  and  others  will  be 
there,  and,  if  I  mistake  not  M.  le  Baron  will  have 
a  sore  head  for  his  wedding,'  and  he  chuckled 
here. 

Then  I  settled  the  score  with  mine  host,  and, 
mounting  our  horses,  we  rode  back  the  way  we 
came.     It  was  at  the  Magasins  that  we  wished 


UNDER    THE  LIMES  22/ 

each  other  good-bye,  and,  with  a  last  grip  of  the 
hand  and  a  last  warning  to  hasten  to  Mourmeton, 
Belin  turned  towards  the  Louvre,  whilst  I  went 
on  towards  the  Tuileries,  keeping  the  northern 
road,  and  not  the  more  frequented  street  along 
the  river  face.  I  chose  this  way  because,  al* 
though  it  was  a  little  longer,  yet  there  was  still 
a  half-hour  for  my  appointment,  and  it  would  not 
do  for  me  to  arrive  too  early,  as  by  hanging 
about  at  the  trysting-place  I  might  attract  atten- 
tion, and,  perhaps,  ruin  the  game.  As  I  rode  on 
I  caught  myself  wondering  if  I  could  play  the 
same  hand  that  Sully,  Villeroi,  and  de  Belin  were 
throwing  to.  I  knew  they  were  honest  men — 
their  positions  removed  them  from  such  tempta- 
tions as  might  assail  even  a  great  noble,  and  that 
they  were  loyally  trying  to  serve  their  country 
and  their  King.  If  such  service,  however  good 
its  object,  meant,  as  it  clearly  did,  that  one  must 
be  up  to  the  elbows  in  intrigue,  then  I  thanked 
God  that  I  belonged  to  no  party,  and  inwardly 
resolved  that,  whether  I  won  or  lost  my  hazard, 
the  court  would  see  me  no  more ;  and  as  for  the 
King  !  Pardieu  !  It  is  not  good  to  know  a  hero 
too  well. 

There  was  a  strong  moon,  and  the  night  was  as 
clear  as  crystal.  One  side  of  the  street  was  in 
shadow,  illumined  here  and  there  by  the  dim 
light  of  a  few  lanterns  set  high  up  in  niches  in 
the  old  and  moss-grown  walls  of  the  buildings. 
The  houses  here  were  old  even  for  this  part  of 
Paris,   and,  with  their  sloping   roofs   and   man}' 


228  THE   CHEVALIER  D'AURIAC 

gables,  rose  in  irregular  outlines  on  either  side — 
outlines,  however,  so  softened  by  the  moonlight, 
in  which  they  seemed  to  quiver,  that  it  was  as  if 
some  fantastic  creation  of  fairyland  had  been  set 
down  here — a  phantom  city  that  would  melt  into 
nothingness  with  the  warm  rays  of  the  morning 
sun. 

Awa}^  in  the  distance  it  still  seemed  as  if  I  could 
hear  the  hum  of  the  city  behind  me,  but  here  all 
was  quiet  and  still  and  the  iron-shod  hoofs  of 
Couronne  rang  out  with  a  strange  clearness  into 
the  night.  Occasionally  I  met  a  passer  on  the 
road,  but  he  or  she,  whoever  they  were,  took  care 
to  give  me  a  wide  berth,  and  once  a  woman  who 
had  opened  her  door  to  look  out,  for  some  reason 
or  other,  hurried  in  and  shut  it  with  a  little  cry  of 
alarm  as  I  passed. 

I  had  now  come  to  the  gardens  of  the  Tuileries, 
and,  putting  Couronne  at  the  wall  which  was  just 
being  raised  around  them,  found  myself  within  a 
quarter-mile  of  our  place  of  meeting.  The  turf 
was  soft  and  level  here,  and  I  let  Couronne  go  at 
a  half-gallop,  keeping  in  the  chequered  shade  of 
the  huge  trees,  which  whispered  strange  things 
to  each  other  in  the  breeze.  At  this  moment  it 
seemed  as  if  I  heard  the  smothered  neigh  of  a 
horse.  I  knew  the  sound  well,  for  often  had  my 
old  Norman  tried  to  serve  me  in  this  way  through 
the  scarf  by  which  his  jaws  were  bound  together 
when  we  lay  in  ambuscade.  With  a  touch  of  my 
hand  I  stayed  my  beast  and  stopped  to  listen. 
Beyond  me  stretched  the  avenue,  at  the  end  of 


UNDER    THE  LIMES  229 

which  stood  the  great  lime  trees.  I  could  see 
nothing  but  the  ghostly  line  of  trunks,  lit  up  here 
by  the  moon,  there  standing  out  black  against  the 
night,  or  fading  away  into  a  lacework  of  leaves 
and  branches.  There  was  no  sound  except  the 
tinkle  of  the  leaves  and  the  sullen  creaking  of  the 
boughs  overhead.  'It  must  be  her  horse  or  Pa- 
lings,* I  said  aloud  to  myself;  and  then  the  com- 
pline  came  to  me  clear  and  sweet  from  the  spire 
of  St.  Germain. 

I  lifted  my  hat  for  an  instant  with  a  silent 
prayer  to  God  for  help,  and  then  shook  up  Cou- 
ronne.  Ere  the  last  notes  of  the  bells  had  gone 
I  was  under  the  limes.  At  first  I  could  see  noth- 
ing ;  there  was  no  one  there ;  and  my  heart  grew 
cold  at  the  thought  that  some  danger  had  over- 
taken my  dear  one. 

'  Madame  !  *  I  called  out.     *  It  is  I— -d'Auriac' 

Then  a  figure  in  a  grey  mantle  stepped  out 
from  the  shadow  of  the  trees,  and  I  sprang  from 
the  saddle  and  held  out  my  hand. 

'  I  knew  it  was  you,  chevalier,'  she  said,  '  but  I 
wanted  to  make  certain  and  waited  until  you 
spoke.* 

*  I  hope  I  have  not  kept  you  waiting?* 

'Indeed  no.  I  had  but  just  come  across  from 
the  Louvre  when  you  arrived.* 

'  Then  you  did  not  come  riding?  * 

'  How  could  I  ?  I  have  been  in  the  Louvre, 
and  am  expected  to  be  at  the  coucher  of  Madame 
Catherine  in  a  half-hour,'  and  she  laughed 
slightly. 


230  THE   CHEVALIER  D'AURIAC 

The  thought  of  that  smothered  neigh  flashed 
through  my  mind  like  lightning. 

*  We  must  trust  ourselves  to  Couronne/  I  said. 
*  Palin  will  be  at  the  Porte  St.  Denis.  There  is  no 
time  to  waste  ;  come ! ' 

Then  it  seemed  that  she  hesitated,  and,  flinging 
back  her  hood,  looked  me  full  in  the  face.  In  the 
moonlight  I  saw  her  white  as  marble,  and  she  sud- 
denly put  out  both  her  hands,  saying: 

*  I  trust  you  utterly,  d'Auriac' 

Man  is  not  made  of  stone,  and  I  loved  this 
woman  as  my  life.  There  was  that  in  her  voice, 
in  the  pitiful  appeal  of  its  tones,  that  broke  down 
all  my  false  pride.  I  cannot  say  how  it  happened, 
but  in  a  moment  my  arm  was  round  her  waist,  and 
I  drew  her  towards  me,  she  nothing  resisting. 

*  Claude,  I  love  you.  Give  me  the  right  to  pro- 
tect you.' 

What  she  said  is  for  my  ears  alone ;  and  then 
she  lay  still  and  passive  in  my  arms,  her  head  rest- 
ing on  my  shoulder. 

So  for  a  time  we  stood  in  silence,  and  then  I 
kissed  her. 

'  Come,  dear,*  I  said,  *  and  with  the  morning  we 
shall  be  safe.' 

Of  her  own  accord  she  put  her  arms  about  my 
neck  and  pressed  her  lips  to  mine,  and  then  I 
lifted  my  darling  to  Couronne's  saddle  bow. 

Had  I  but  taken  de  Belin's  offer !  If  Jacques 
were  but  with  me  then  ! 

My  foot  was  in  the  stirrup,  my  hand  on  the 
reins,  when  there  was  a  sudden  flash,  a  loud  re- 


UNDER    THE  LIMES  23 1 

port,  and  my  poor  horse  fell  forward,  floundering 
in  the  agony  of  death. 

I  just  managed  to  snatch  Claude  from  the  sad- 
dle, and  staggered  back,  and  then  with  a  rush  a 
half-dozen  men  were  on  us.  They  were  masked 
to  a  man,  and  made  their  attack  in  a  perfect 
silence ;  but  as  my  sword  flashed  out  of  my  scab- 
bard I  recognised  the  tall  figure  of  the  Capuchin, 
and  thrust  at  him  fiercely,  with  a  curse  at  my 
folly  in  coming  alone. 

Things  like  these  take  a  short  time  in  doing, 
and  should  take  a  shorter  time  in  telling.  I  ran 
one  man  through  the  heart,  and  with  a  gasp  he 
fell  forwards  and  twisted  himself  like  a  snake 
round  my  blade.  Then  someone  flung  a  cloak 
over  my  head — I  was  overborne  by  numbers  and 
thrown.  Two  or  three  men  held  me  down  ;  there 
was  an  iron  grip  at  my  throat,  and  a  man's  knee 
pressed  heavily  on  my  chest.  I  made  a  frantic 
effort  to  free  myself :  the  covering  slipped  from 
my  face,  and  I  saw  it  was  the  Capuchin  kneeling 
over  me,  a  dagger  in  his  hand.  His  mask  had 
fallen  from  him,  and  his  face  was  the  face  of  Ra- 
vaillac  ! 

I  could  not  call  out,  I  was  held  too  tight ;  and 
the  villain  lifted  his  poniard  to  strike,  when  a 
voice — the  voice  of  de  Gomeron — said  : 

*  Hold !     We  will  put  him  out  another  way.* 
'This   is   the   quickest   and    surest,'    answered 

Ravaillac  ;  but  the  reply  was  brief  and  stern. 

*  Carry  out  my  orders.  Gag  him  and  bring  him 
with  us.' 


232  THE   CHEVALIER  D'AURIAC 

'  To  Babette's  ?  * 

*To  Babette*s.  There  is  the  oubliette.  Quick, 
there  is  no  time  to  lose/ 

*  Oh,  ho  !'  laughed  Ravaillac,  '  that  is  good  !  M. 
le  Chevalier  will  be  able  to  drown  his  sorrows  un- 
der the  Seine ;  but  he  will  take  a  long  time  to  die  ! ' 

*  You  villain  ! '  I  gasped,  but  like  lightning  the 
gag  was  on  me,  and  then  I  was  blindfolded.  I 
could  see  nothing  of  Madame,  though  I  tried  my 
utmost  to  get  a  glimpse  of  her.  Then  I  was 
bound  hand  and  foot,  and  lifted  by  a  couple  of 
men.  After  being  carried  a  short  space  I  was 
thrust  into  a  litter,  and  as  this  was  done  I  heard  a 
faint  cry  from  Claude ;  and  I  groaned  in  my  heart, 
for  I  was  powerless  to  help. 

The  litter  went  forward  at  a  jolting  pace,  and 
from  the  echo  of  hoofs  around  it  I  gathered  that 
there  were  at  least  a  dozen  mounted  men  about 
me.  Sometimes  I  heard  a  brief  order  given  by 
de  Gomeron,  and  the  sound  of  his  voice  made  me 
certain  that  Madame  was  with  us.  If  so,  there 
might  still  be  hope,  and  I  lay  still  and  tried  to 
follow  our  route  by  the  movement  of  the  party, 
but  I  could  see  nothing ;  and  after  a  time  my 
brain  began  to  get  confused,  for  we  turned  this 
way  and  that,  up  side  streets,  down  winding 
roads,  until  the  thing  became  impossible. 

Once  we  were  challenged  by  the  watch,  and 
my  captor  gave  answer  boldly  : 

'  M.  de  Gomeron,  of  the  Marshal's  Guards,  with 
prisoners  for  the  Chatelet ;  let  us  pass  in  the 
King's  name.* 


UNDER    THE  LIMES  233 

I  heard  the  words  and  strove  to  call  out,  but 
the  gag  was  too  secure.  At  any  rate,  I  had  learned 
one  thing — we  were  going  in  the  direction  of  the 
Chatelet.  Who,  then,  was  Babette?  I  had  heard 
the  name  once  before,  on  the  night  that  I  lay 
wounded  before  La  Fere,  and  an  inspiration 
seemed  to  come  on  me,  and  I  was  certain  that  the 
night  hag  and  de  Gomeron*s  Babette  were  one 
and  the  same. 

Then  we  jolted  on  for  about  another  half-hour 
— we  must  have  passed  the  Chatelet  by  this — 
when  suddenly  the  litter  took  a  sharp  turn  to  the 
right,  and  after  going  a  little  way  was  put  to  the 
ground. 

'  Sacr^  nom  d'lin  chien  !  '  exclaimed  one  of  my 
carriers,  '  he  is  heavy  as  lead.' 

*  He  will  be  light  enough  in  a  week  or  so,'  an- 
swered someone  else ;  and  then  I  heard  the  crea- 
king of  hinges,  and  the  litter  appeared  to  be  borne 
within  a  yard  and  was  left  there.  After  a  half- 
hour  or  so  I  was  dragged  out,  and  I  heard  a  wo- 
man's voice : 

*  This  way,  my  lambs ;  the  gentleman's  room  is 
below — very  far  below,  out  of  all  draughts  ;'  and 
she  laughed,  with  the  same  pitiless  note  in  her 
voice  that  I  had  heard  once  before — and  I  knew 
it  was  the  murderess. 

Down  a  winding  stair  we  went,  and  I  remained 
passive,  but  mentally  counted  the  steps  and  the 
turns.  There  were  eighteen  steps  and  three  turns, 
at  each  of  which  there  was  apparently  a  door, 
and  then  we  stopped.     There  was  a  jingling  of 


234  THE   CHEVALIER   D'AUJ^IAC 

keys,  the  harsh,  grating   noise   of   a   bolt   being 
drawn  back,  and  Babette  spoke  again  : 

'  Monsieur's  apartment  is  ready — *tis  the  safest 
room  in  the  Toison  d'Or.'  Then  I  was  flung  in 
heavily  as  I  was,  and  the  door  bolted  behind  me. 


CHAPTER  XV 

THE    HAND  OF   BABETTE 

I  LAY  for  a  time  where  I  had  been  flung,  over- 
whelmed by  the  disaster.  Then  a  frenzy  came  on 
me,  and,  but  for  the  gag  in  my  mouth,  I  could 
have  screamed  out  curses  on  my  folly  in  allowing 
myself  to  be  trapped  like  a  wild  cat.  Now  that  I 
think  of  it,  in  the  madness  of  those  moments  I  did 
not  pray  to  the  God  who  had  so  often  and  so  re- 
peatedly helped  me  ;  yet  in  His  mercy  and  good- 
ness I  was  freed  from  my  straits,  as  will  be  shown 
hereafter. 

In  the  meantime  I  was  so  securely  bound  that 
it  was  all  but  impossible  to  move,  and  the  band- 
age over  my  eyes  prevented  me  from  seeing  any- 
thing. I  writhed  and  twisted  like  a  serpent  on 
the  wet  flags  where  I  lay,  and  in  the  violence  of 
my  struggles  gradually  moved  the  bandages,  so 
that  my  eyes  were  at  last  set  free,  and  then,  ex- 
hausted by  my  efforts  and  half-choked  by  the  gag, 
I  became  still  once  more,  and  looked  around  me. 
For  all  I  could  see  I  might  have  been  as  before — 
I  was  in  blank,  absolute  darkness.  Into  the  void 
I  peered,  but  could  make  out  nothing,  though  I 

235 


236  THE   CHEVALIER   D'AURIAC 

could  hear  my  own  laboured  breathing,  and  the 
melancholy  drip,  drip  of  water  as  it  oozed  from 
above  me  and  fell  in  sullen  drops  on  the  slime  be- 
low. 

As  I  strained  into  the  velvet  black  of  the  dark- 
ness, it  came  to  me — some  fiend  must  have  whi- 
spered it — that  I  was  blind.  My  mind  almost 
ceased  to  work  at  the  thought,  and  I  remained  in 
a  kind  of  torpor,  trying  in  a  weak  manner  to  men- 
tally count  the  drops  of  water  by  the  dull  splash- 
ing sound  they  made  in  falling.  Ages  seemed  to 
pass  as  I  lay  there,  and  the  first  sense  of  coming 
to  myself  was  the  thought  of  Claude,  whom  I  had 
lost,  and  the  quick  agony  of  this  made  my  other 
sufferings  seem  as  nothing.  There  is  a  misery 
that  words,  at  least  such  words  as  I  am  master  of, 
cannot  picture,  and  I  will  therefore  say  no  more 
of  this. 

A  little  thing,  however,  now  happened,  and  but* 
for  this  I  might  have  lain  where  I  was  until  I 
died,  so  entirely  impressed  was  I  with  the  idea 
that  I  was  sightless.  In  utter  weariness  I  turned 
my  head  on  one  side  and  saw  two  small  beads  of 
fire  twinkling  about  a  yard  or  so  from  me.  They 
were  as  small  as  the  far-away  stars,  and  they 
stared  at  me  fixedly.  *  This  is  some  deception  of 
the  mind,'  I  thought  to  myself,  when  suddenly 
another  pair  of  fiery  eyes  appeared  ;  then  there 
was  a  slight  shuffling,  and  all  was  still.  But  it 
was  the  saving  of  me.  Sight  and  hearing  could 
not  both  deceive.  I  knew  what  they  were,  and  1 
knew,  too,  that  I  was  not  blind.     From  that  mo- 


THE  HAND    OF  BABETTE  237 

ment  I  began  to  regain  possession  of  my  faculties 
and  to  think  of  means  of  escape.  In  my  vest 
pocket  was  a  small  clasp  knife.  If  I  could  but 
get  at  that  I  could  free  myself  from  my  bonds. 
That,  at  any  rate,  had  to  be  the  first  step.  I  be- 
gan to  slowly  move  my  arms  up  and  down  with  a 
view  to  loosening  the  cords  that  bound  me,  but, 
after  some  time  spent  in  this  exercise,  realised 
the  fact  that  the  ropes  might  cut  through  me,  but 
that  they  would  not  loosen.  Then  it  struck  me, 
in  my  eagerness  to  be  free,  that  I  might  get  at 
the  knots  with  my  teeth,  and  by  a  mighty  effort  I 
raised  myself  to  a  sitting  posture — only  to  remem- 
ber that  I  was  gagged,  and  that  it  was  of  no  avail 
to  think  of  this  plan.  There  are  those  who  will 
smile,  perhaps,  if  their  eyes  meet  this,  and  put  me 
down  in  their  estimation  for  a  fool  for  my  forget- 
fulness.  That  may  or  may  not  be,  but  I  have 
written  down  exactly  what  happened. 

Although  the  new  position  1  had  attained  did 
not  in  any  way  advance  me  towards  freedom,  yet 
it  gave  me  a  sense  of  personal  relief.  I  was  able 
to  raise  my  knees  a  little,  and  sitting  down  thus, 
with  my  body  thrown  a  little  forward,  to  ease 
the  strain  of  the  cords,  I  began  to  think  and  go 
over  in  my  mind  the  whole  scene  of  the  tragedy 
from  the  beginning  to  its  bitter  end.  I  had  no 
doubt  as  to  the  personality  of  Babette.  I  was  not 
likely  to  forget  her  voice.  I  had  heard  it  under 
circumstances  that  ought  to  have  stamped  it  on 
my  memory  for  all  time,  and  if  I  had  the  faintest 
doubts  on  the  matter,  they  were  set  at  rest  by  the 


238  THE   CHEVALIER  D'AURIAC 

fact  that  she  was  so  well  known  to  de  Gomeron— 
she  probably  had  been  a  camp-follower  on  our 
side—and  also  by  the  still  more  damning  fact  that 
her  house  was  known  as  the  Toison  d'Or.  The 
name  had  been  distinctly  mentioned  by  her,  and 
its  meaning  was  clear  to  me  when  I  thought  of 
the  dreadful  scene  over  de  Ley va*s  body. 

As  for  de  Gomeron,  I  knew  him  well  enough  to 
understand  his  game.  The  whole  affair,  as  far  as 
he  was  concerned,  was  a  sudden  and  rapid  resolve 
— that  was  clear.  I  argued  it  out  in  this  way  to 
myself,  and,  as  I  went  on  thinking,  it  was  almost 
as  if  someone  was  reading  out  a  statement  of  the 
case  to  me.  It  was  evident  that  the  free-lance  was 
to  the  last  moment  in  hopes  that  the  King  would 
yield  to  Biron's  intercession  on  his  behalf.  When 
that  was  refused  he  may  have  had  some  idea  of 
gaining  his  end  by  force,  but  was  compelled  to 
hurry  his  coup  by  the  knowledge  that  he  had  ob- 
tained from  his  confederate  or  spy,  Ravaillac. 

It  had  worked  out  well  enough  for  him.  My 
disappearance,  my  dead  horse — poor  Couronne! — 
all  these  would  point  to  me  as  the  author  of  the 
abduction,  and  give  de  Gomeron  the  time  he 
wanted  to  perfect  his  plans.  The  man  I  had  run 
through  would  never  tell  tales,  and,  so  far,  the 
game  lay  in  the  Camarguer^s  hands. 

And  then  about  Madame.  As  I  became  calmer 
I  saw  that  for  his  own  sake  de  Gomeron  would 
take  care  that  her  life  was  safe — at  any  rate  for 
the  present,  and  whilst  there  was  this  contingency 
there  was  hope  for  her,  if  none  for  me,  as  I  felt 


THE  HAND    OF  BABETTE  239 

sure  that,  what  with  the  King  and  Madame's  rela- 
tives  of  the  Tremouille  on  one  hand,  and  Sully 
and  de  Belin  on  the  other,  things  would  go  hard, 
sooner  or  later,  with  de  Gomeron,  whatever  hap- 
pened to  me. 

By  the  time  my  thoughts  had  reached  this 
point  I  was  myself  again,  and  the  certainty  with 
which  I  was  possessed  that  Claude  was  in  no  im- 
mediate danger  of  her  life  gave  me  strength  to 
cast  about  for  my  own  liberation  as  the  first  step 
towards  freeing  her. 

But  my  despair  almost  returned  as  I  thought 
and  thought,  until  my  brain  seemed  on  fire,  with- 
out my  efforts  bringing  me  a  ray  of  hope.  I 
shuddered  as  I  reflected  that  it  was  part  of  de 
Gomeron*s  scheme  to  let  me  die  here.  It  could 
easily  be  done,  and  a  few  bricks  against  the  wall 
would  remove  all  traces  of  the  living  grave  of 
d'Auriac.  In  my  mental  excitement  I  seemed  to 
be  able  to  project  my  soul  outside  my  prison, 
and  to  see  and  hear  all  that  my  enemy  was  plot- 
ting. 

I  do  not  for  a  moment  say  I  was  right  in  every 
detail,  but  events  showed  that  I  was  not  far  wrong ; 
and  it  is  a  wonder  to  me  that  the  learned  men  of 
our  day  have  not  dealt  with  this  question  of  the 
mind,  though,  to  be  sure,  it  savours  no  little  of 
those  secrets  which  the  Almighty  in  His  wisdom 
has  concealed  from  us,  an  inquiry  into  which  is 
perhaps  a  sin — perhaps  in  some  future  time  these 
things  may  be  disclosed  to  us !  Whether  I  am 
right  or  wrong,  I  know  not.     I  have,  however, 


240  THE   CHEVALIER   D'AURIAC 

set  down  faithfully  what  passed  through  my  mind 
in  those  hours  of  agony. 

Was  I  never  to  see  the  light  again?  Never  to 
hear  another  human  voice?  Was  I  to  come  to  my 
death  in  a  long-drawn-out  agony  ?  Dear  God, 
then,  in  mercy,  strike  me  dead  !  So  1  prayed  in 
my  utter  desolation ;  but  death  did  not  come, 
though  its  mantle  of  darkness  was  around  me. 

Hour  after  hour  passed.  I  shifted  my  position, 
and,  strange  to  say,  slept.  How  long  I  slept  I 
know  not ;  but  I  woke  stinging  with  pain,  and 
found  this  was  due  to  my  being  bound  as  I  was, 
and  in  a  little  the  agony  became  almost  insup- 
portable ;  and  I  was  on  the  verge  of  going  into 
a  delirium,  only  righting  my  failing  senses  by  a 
mighty  effort  of  will. 

I  had  lost  all  count  of  the  time,  but  guessed  it 
was  advanced  in  the  day  by  this;  and  my  eyes 
had  become  so  accustomed  to  the  darkness  that  I 
could  manage  to  see  the  faint  outlines  of  the  cell 
in  which  I  was  imprisoned.  I  tried  to  make  out 
its  extent  with  an  idle  and  useless  curiosity,  and 
then,  giving  it  up  and  utterly  hopeless,  leaned  my 
head  on  my  upraised  knees,  and  sat  thus  waiting 
for  the  end. 

I  longed  for  death  to  come  now — it  would  be  a 
happy  release  from  my  pain. 

Suddenly  there  came  a  grating  noise  as  the 
bolts  outside  were  moved.  Then  the  door  of  the 
cell  swung  open  with  a  groaning,  and  there  was  a 
blinding  flash  of  light  that,  for  the  time  being,  de- 
prived me  of  the  powers  of  sight,  though,  with  a 


THE  HAND    OF  BABETTE  241 

natural  instinct,  I  shut  my  eyes  to  the  flash  as  it 
came. 

Then  I  heard  de  Gomeron's  voice  saying,  *  Re- 
move the  gag — I  have  something  to  ask  Monsieur/ 

As  I  felt  two  cold,  hard  hands  fumbling  Mrith 
the  knots  of  the  gag,  I  managed  to  open  my  eyes, 
though  the  light  still  pained  me,  and  saw  the  tall 
figure  of  the  free-lance,  his  drawn  sword  in  his 
hand,  standing  in  the  open  doorway,  and  kneeling 
beside  me  was  Babette.  The  hag  caught  the 
loathing  in  my  glance,  and  laughed  to  herself  as 
she  wrenched  at  the  knots,  and  de  Gomeron,  who 
was  evidently  in  no  mood  to  delay,  hurried  her 
efforts  with  a  sharp  *  Quick  !  * 

*  It  is  done,*  she  answered,  and  rose  to  her  feet, 
swinging  the  silken  bands  of  the  gag  she  held  in 
her  hand. 

*  Then  have  the  goodness  to  step  back  whilst 
Monsieur  d'Auriac  and  I  discuss  the  position.* 

Babette  did  as  she  was  bidden,  muttering  some- 
thing, and  de  Gomeron,  advancing  a  pace,  ad- 
dressed me — 

*  Monsieur,  I  have  come  to  make  you  an  offer, 
and  I  will  not  waste  words.  I  am  playing  to  win 
a  desperate  game,  and  I  shall  not  hesitate  to  play 
any  card  to  win.  My  offer  is  this.  I  ask  you  to 
sign  a  formal  document,  which  I  shall  bring  to 
you,  holding  me  guiltless  of  any  design  against 
either  you  or  Madame  de  la  Bidache.  In  return 
I  will  set  you  free  in  ten  days  after  you  sign  this 
paper.  During  that  time  you  must  consider 
yourself   my    prisoner ;    but   you    will   be    better 

16 


242  THE   CHEVALIER  D'AURIAC 

lodged  than  now.  Should  you  refuse  to  accept 
this  offer,  there  is  nothing  left  for  me  but  to  leave 
you  here  to  die.* 

He  spoke  in  slow,  measured  accents,  and  the 
vault  of  the  roof  above  me  gave  back  the  man's 
words  in  a  solemn  echo.  The  light  of  the  lantern 
stretched  in  a  long  yellow  shaft  up  the  spiral  stair- 
way beyond  the  door,  and,  half  in  this  light  and 
half  in  shadow,  stood  the  witch-like  figure  of  Ba- 
bette,  leaning  a  little  forward  as  if  striving  to 
catch  each  word  that  was  spoken. 

In  the  silence  that  followed  the  free-lance's 
speech  I  could  almost  hear  the  blood  throbbing 
in  my  temples;  and  for  the  moment  I  was  de- 
prived of  all  power  of  words.  It  was  not  from 
fear,  nor  from  any  idea  of  accepting  the  offer,  but 
a  thought  had  come  to  my  mind.  I  would  oppose 
craft  with  craft,  and  meet  the  fox  in  the  skin  of  a 
fox. 

'  Give  me  twenty-four  hours  to  decide,'  I  an- 
swered, '  and  free  me  from  these  cords.  I  cannot 
think  for  the  pain  of  them.' 

*  Pardieu  !  '  he  laughed.  *  The  knots  have  been 
well  tied ;  but  twenty-four  hours  is  a  long  time.' 

'  Yet  you  are  willing  to  accommodate  me  for 
ten  days,  better  lodged.  Ventrebleu  I  M.  de  Go- 
meron!  Do  you  think  I  can  scratch  my  way  out 
of  this  ? ' 

He  did  not  answer  me,  but  stood  for  a  while 
biting  at  the  ends  of  his  thick  moustache.  Then 
he  suddenly  called  to  Babette,  *  Cut  the  cords.' 

She  came  forward  and  obeyed.     Words  cannot 


THE  HAND   OF  BABETTE  243 

convey  the  sensation  of  relief  as  the  cords  fell 
from  me,  but  for  the  time  being  so  numbed  was  I 
that  I  was  powerless  to  move. 

'  You  have  your  desire,  monsieur,*  said  de  Go- 
meron,  *  and  I  await  your  decision.  It  will  save 
me  trouble  if  you  inform  Babette  whether  you 
agree  or  not.  In  the  former  event  we  shall  have 
the  pleasure  of  meeting  again ;  in  the  latter  case 
I  take  the  opportunity  of  wishing  you  as  happy  a 
time  as  a  man  may  have — in  the  future  life.  In 
the  meantime  I  will  see  that  some  refreshments 
are  sent  to  you.     Adieu  !  ' 

He  turned  and  stepped  out  of  the  cell  and  stood 
for  a  moment  whilst  Babette  picked  up  the  lan- 
tern and  followed  him. 

*  Monsieur  will  not  want  the  light  to  aid  him  to 
think,'  she  laughed,  and  then  the  door  was  shut. 
I  heard  the  sullen  clank  of  the  chain,  the  turning 
of  the  great  keys,  and  I  was  alone  and  in  darkness 
once  more. 

Dark  it  may  have  been,  but,  thank  God  !  I  was 
no  longer  like  a  trussed  fowl,  and  betook  myself 
to  rubbing  my  numbed  limbs  until  finally  the 
chilled  blood  was  warmed  and  I  was  able  to 
stand,  and  then,  in  a  little,  I  gained  strength  to 
grope  my  w^ay  backwards  and  forwards  in  the  cell 
as  an  exercise.  No  thought  of  ever  agreeing  to 
de  Gomeron's  terms  ever  crossed  me.  I  had, 
however,  resolved  to  make  a  dash  for  freedom 
when  he  came  to  me  again.  I  should  pretend  to 
agree,  and  then  win  or  lose  all  in  the  rush.  Any- 
way, I   would  not  die  here  like  a  rat  in  a  trap. 


244  THE   CHEVALIER  D'AURIAC 

I  almost  chuckled  to  myself  as  I  thought  I  was  in 
a  fair  way  to  outwit  the  free-lance.  He  was  a  fool 
after  all,  though,  at  the  same  time,  I  could  not 
but  admit  that  his  move  to  get  me  to  admit  his 
innocence  was  a  skilful  one.  Still,  it  was  a  plot 
that  might  overreach  itself.  My  captors  had 
eased  me  of  my  belt,  which  was  so  well  stuffed 
with  pistoles.  They  had  not,  however,  had  time 
or  opportunity  to  search  me  further,  and  had  left 
my  clasp-knife,  which  lay  in  my  pocket,  as  I  have 
said,  together  with  a  dozen  or  so  of  gold  pieces 
I  had  kept  there  to  be  at  hand.  I  pulled  out  the 
knife  and,  opening  it,  ran  my  fingers  along  the 
blade.  It  was  three  inches  or  so  in  length,  but 
sharp  as  a  razor,  and  with  it  one  might  inflict  an 
ugly  wound  in  a  struggle.  I  mapped  out  my  plan 
mentally.  When  de  Gomeron  came  again  I  should 
fell  him  as  he  entered,  arm  myself,  if  possible,  by 
snatching  his  sword,  and  then  cut  my  way  out  or 
be  cut  down.  I  had  no  doubt  that  I  might  be 
able  to  effect  the  first  part  of  the  programme.  In 
those  days  I  was  as  strong  as  a  bull,  and  there 
were  few  men,  especially  if  they  were  unprepared, 
who  could  have  stood  a  blow  from  me.  It  was 
in  act  two  that  I  might  come  to  grief.  At  any 
rate,  it  would  be  a  final  and  quick  ending  to  the 
business,  not  the  long-drawn-out  agony  I  would 
otherwise  have  to  endure.  Now  that  I  think  of  it, 
it  was  a  poor  enough  plan,  and  it  was  lucky  that, 
under  Providence,  another  way  was  shown  to  me. 
Such  as  it  was,  however,  it  was  the  only  thing 
that  occurred  to  me  at  that  time,  and  it  would  not 


THE  HAND    OF  BABETTE  24$ 

be  for  want  of  effort  on  my  part  that  it  would  fail. 
The  more  I  thought  over  it,  then  the  more  I  was 
convinced  that  it  was  my  sole  chance,  and  1  grew 
impatient  for  the  moment  when  I  should  put  my 
design  into  execution.  Twenty-four  hours  was 
long  to  wait,  and  I  raved  at  myself  for  having 
fixed  such  a  time.  Morbleu  !  I  might  have  had 
the  sense  to  make  it  five,  or  three,  or  two  hours! 
I  little  guessed,  as  I  paced  the  cell  impatiently, 
how  many  hours  had  passed  since  de  Gomeron 
left  me,  and  that  it  was  impossible  to  measure 
time  in  that  loathsome  dungeon.  As  I  sat  brood- 
ing, the  profound  silence  was  once  more  sudden- 
ly disturbed  by  the  sudden  jarring  of  a  bolt.  It 
was  not,  however,  the  door  of  my  cell  that  was 
opened,  but  a  little  wicket  about  a  foot  square, 
and  through  this  there  flashed  again  a  blinding 
light,  and  the  face  of  Babette  peered  in.  So  ma- 
lign was  its  aspect  that  I  shuddered  in  spite  of 
myself,  and  then,  in  a  fury  I  could  not  control, 
shouted  out : 

'  Out  of  my  presence,  hag!     Begone  !  * 

'  Oh  !  ho ! '  she  laughed.  '  A  time  will  come 
when  Monsieur  will  go  on  his  two  knees  and  pray 
to  Babette — to  good  Babette — to  kind  Babette  ! 
In  a  day  or  so  it  will  be  thus,'  and  she  laughed 
shrilly.  '  But  I  go  as  you  wish,  to  carry  your 
refusal  to  the  Captain.' 

She  made  a  movement  as  if  to  go,  but,  cursing 
myself  at  very  nearly  having  spoilt  all,  I  burst 
out,  '  Stay  ! '  and  she  looked  back. 

*  Monsieur !  *     She  grinned  through  the  wicket. 


246  THE   CHEVALIER  D'AURIAC 

*  See  here,'  and  in  my  eagerness  my  voice  was 
hoarse  and  thick ;  '  five  hundred  crowns  if  you 
free  me  from  this,  and  a  thousand  more  if  you  will 
do  the  same  for  Madame/ 

'  Will  Monsieur  add  a  palace  in  the  moon  to 
this  ? ' 

*  I  give  you  the  word  of  d'Auriac.  Fifteen 
hundred  crowns  is  a  fortune.  They  will  be  yours 
in  six  hours  from  the  time  you  free  us.  Think  of 
it — fifteen  hundred  crowns! ' 

Never  have  I  seen  avarice  blaze  so  in  a  face  as 
in  hers.  As  I  dropped  out  the  last  words,  she 
shook  her  head  from  side  to  side  with  a  swaying 
motion  of  a  serpent.  Her  eyes  glittered  like 
those  of  an  asp,  and  between  her  half-parted  lips 
she  hissed  rather  than  spoke  to  herself : 

*  Fif-teen  hun-dred  crowns !  It  is  the  price  of  a 
barony  !     I,  who  have  taken  life  for  a  half-pistole  !  * 

*  You  will  save  two  lives  for  this,'  I  pleaded. 
But  the  she-devil,  though  sorely  tempted,  was 

faithful.  What  de  Gomeron's  power  over  her 
was  I  know  not.  I  could  add  nothing  to  my 
offer ;  I  had  laid  my  all  on  the  hazard,  and  it  was 
not  to  be  done. 

'Poufl'  she  mocked,  'you  do  not  go  high 
enough.  You  do  not  promise  the  palace  in  the 
moon.  But  I  waste  my  time.  Is  it  "  Yes/*  or 
''  No,*'  for  the  Captain  ? ' 

There  was  another  chance,  and  I  would  risk 
that.     I  made  a  step  nearer  the  opening. 

'  Give  me  something  to  drink,  and  I  will  answer 
at  once.' 


THE  HAND    OF  BABETTE  247 

*  Ah !  ha  !  Monsieur  requires  some  courage. 
Here  is  a  flask  of  Frontignac,  but  it  is  expensive, 
and  Monsieur,  I  am  afraid,  has  left  his  belt  out- 
side his  room.     The  Frontignac  is  five  crowns.' 

*  You  forgot  my  pockets,'  I  answered.  *  Here 
are  two  pistoles  ;   hand  me  the  wine.' 

'  The  money  first,'  and  she  stretched  out  her 
hand. 

Like  a  flash  I  closed  my  fingers  on  her  wrist, 
and  drew  in  her  hand  to  the  full  length  of  the 
arm. 

'  If  you  scream,  if  you  utter  a  sound,  I  will  tear 
your  arm  from  its  socket.' 

The  answer  was  a  shriek  that  might  have  been 
heard  a  half-mile  away,  and  then  a  foul  oath  and 
a  howl  of  pain.  It  was  hardly  a  knightly  deed, 
but  there  was  too  much  at  stake  to  mince  matters  ; 
and  on  her  scream  I  gave  the  prisoner  arm  I  held 
a  wrench  strong  enough  to  show  that  I  could  keep 
my  word.  As  the  shrill  echoes  of  her  cry  died 
away,  I  could  hear  her  breathing  heavily  on  the  op- 
posite side  of  the  door,  and  she  struggled  mute- 
ly and  with  surprising  strength  to  free  herself. 
There  was  no  answer  to  her  call  for  help.  There 
must  have  been  many  a  shriek  for  help  that  had 
rung  through  that  terrible  dungeon,  and  died 
away  answerless  but  for  the  mocking  echoes ! 
And  Babette  knew  this,  for  she  ceased  to  utter  a 
sound  after  that  one  long  scream,  and  fought  in 
silence  like  a  she-wolf  at  bay.  At  last  she  leaned 
exhausted  against  the  door,  and  I  felt  that  half 
my  game  was  won.     It  had  been  an  unexpected 


248  THE   CHEVALIER  D'AURIAC 

thought,  and  I  had  jumped  at   the   opportunity 
Providence  had  thrown  in  my  way. 

*  Do  you  hear?'  I  said;  *  open  the  door,  or — * 
and  I  gave  another  half-turn  to  her  arm. 

She  who  could  inflict  such  suffering  on  others 
was  of  those  who  were  unable  to  bear  the  slight- 
est pain  herself.  She  moaned  in  agony  and  called 
out: 

*  Free  me,  and  I  promise — I  promise  anything.* 
I  only  laughed  and  repeated  my  order,  reliev- 
ing the  strain  on  her  arm,  however,  so  that  she 
could  slip  back  a  half-pace  or  so  from  the  wicket. 
Then  I  heard  the  great  lock  open  and  the  chain 
put  down,  and  Babette's  voice  trembling  with 
anger  and  pain. 

*  It  is  open.' 

The  door  swung  outwards,  so  that  all  I  had  to 
do  was  to  fold  my  prisoner's  arm  from  the  elbow 
along  its  face  as  I  pushed  it  open.  It  kept  her 
perfectly  secure,  and  enabled  me  to  take  a  pre- 
caution that,  it  turned  out,  was  needed,  for  as  I 
pushed  the  door  I  drove  the  death-hunter  back 
with  it,  and  the  moment  it  was  sufficiently  open 
to  let  me  pass,  I  sprang  out  and  seized  her  left 
arm.  Quick  as  I  was,  however,  I  was  not  quite 
quick  enough  to  avoid  the  blow  of  her  dagger, 
and  received  a  flesh  wound,  which,  however,  was 
after  all  but  slight.  Then  there  was  another 
struggle,  and  affairs  were  adjusted  between  Ba- 
bette  and  myself  without  any  special  harm  being 
done  to  her. 

'  Now  listen  to  me,'  I  said.      '  Whatever  hap- 


THE  HAND    OF  BABETTE  249 

pens,  I  will  kill  you  first  if  there  is  any  treachery. 
Take  me  straight  to  Madame.' 

'  She  is  not  here,'  was  the  sullen  reply. 

*  Then  I  take  you  with  me  to  the  Hotel  de  Ville. 
Come — to  your  senses.' 

She  broke  into  the  most  terrible  imprecations ; 
but  time  was  precious,  and  I  quenched  this  rea- 
dily enough,  and  at  last  it  was  clear  she  was  ut- 
terly cowed.  Again  I  repeat  that  no  harm  was 
done,  and  it  was  only  dire  necessity  that  com- 
pelled me  to  use  the  violence  I  did. 

*  Come,'  and  I  shook  her  up.  '  Where  is  Ma- 
dame ? ' 

She  looked  from  right  to  left  with  a  quick,  un- 
easy motion  of  her  eyes. 

*  I  do  not  know.     She  is  not  here.' 

I  was  compelled  to  believe  her — or  to  accept 
her  statement,  which  you  will. 

'  Very  well,  then  I  waste  time  no  longer,'  and 
suiting  actions  to  my  words,  and  exerting  my 
strength  to  its  utmost,  I  took  her  with  me  up  the 
stairway,  forcing  her  to  open  each  of  the  doors 
that  closed  on  it.  At  the  last  door  I  took  the 
precaution  of  gagging  Babette,  and  fastened  her 
arms  securely,  but  lightly,  behind  her  back  with 
her  own  girdle.  Then  holding  her  against  the 
wall,  I  ran  rapidly  over  the  whole  position.  If 
Madame  was  in  the  house,  which  was  uncertain, 
I  could  effect  her  rescue  better  from  without  than 
within.  If,  on  the  other  hand,  she  was  not  there, 
I  would  be  wasting  most  valuable  time,  and  per- 
haps ruin  all  chance  of  saving  her,  by  searching 


2 so  THE   CHEVALIER   D'AURIAC 

the  rooms  of  the  Toison  d'Or,  unarmed  as  1  was. 
Once  free,  I  could  force  de  Gomeron  to  give  up 
his  victim.  He  w^ould  not,  after  the  charges  I 
should  lay  against  him  in  an  hour,  dare  to  leave 
Paris,  whatever  else  he  might  do.  That  would  in 
itself  be  a  confession  of  guilt.  As  for  Babette,  I 
felt  it  was  impossible  to  drag  her  with  me  through 
the  streets  of  Paris. 

*  Look  here !  *  and  I  gave  my  prisoner  a  shak^. 

*  I  fully  believe  that  Madame  is  here,  and  if  you 
wish  to  save  yourself  from  the  rack — it  hurts 
more  than  what  I  have  done  to  you — you  will  see 
that  no  harm  comes  to  her.     You  follow  ?  ' 

She  was  speechless,  but  her  eyes  were  blazing 
with  wrath  as  she  made  a  sullen  movement  of  her 
head. 

*  You  had  also  better  tell  Monsieur  de  Gome- 
ron, your  master,  that  I  refuse  his  terms.  It  will 
save  him  the  trouble  of  knowing  that  I  have  es- 
caped— you  understand  ? ' 

This  time  she  nodded  eagerly  enough. 
'  Now,*  I  went  on,  *  we  will  open  the  last  door.' 
I  took  the  bunch  of  keys,  and,  after  a  try  or 
two,  succeeded  in  hitting  on  the  right  one.  After 
this  I  pushed  Babette  before  me  into  the  small 
flagged  yard,  and  saw  to  my  surprise  that  it  was 
night,  and  that  the  moon  was  out.  Then  I  gave 
the  fact  no  further  thought   beyond  an  inward 

*  Thank  God  ! '  for  the  uncertain  moonlight  that 
would  cover  my  escape.  As  I  pushed  my  captive 
along  the  shadow  of  the  wall  until  we  came  to 
the  entrance  gate,  I  looked  around  and  above  me 


THE  HAND   OF  BABETTE  2$ I 

carefully,  but  there  was  nothing  to  indicate  where 
Madame  was.  A  hundred  times  was  I  tempted 
to  turn  back  and  risk  all  in  searching  the  house 
for  her,  and  it  was  only  because  I  was  convinced 
that  the  sole  chance  of  saving  her  was  to  be  free 
first  myself  that  I  did  not  give  in  to  my  desire. 
On  reaching  the  gatQ  I  discovered  that  there  was 
a  wicket  in  it  large  enough  to  squeeze  a  man's 
body  through,  and  that  this  was  closed  by  a  heavy 
pair  of  iron  cross-bars,  a  secure  enough  defence 
from  the  outside.  Holding  Babette  at  arm's- 
length  from  me,  I  put  down  the  bar  and  opened 
the  wicket.  Then,  still  keeping  my  hold  on  her, 
I  freed  her  hands,  and,  bending  slightly  forwards 
and  looking  her  straight  in  the  face,  said  : 

*  Remember  !  And  adieu,  Madame  de — Mau- 
ginot ! ' 

At  these  words,  which  brought  back  to  her 
memory  her  crime  on  the  battle-field  of  La  Fere, 
she  shrank  back,  her  eyes  seemed  to  sink  into 
their  sockets,  and  as  I  loosed  my  hold  of  her 
shoulder  she  fell  in  a  huddled  heap  on  the  flags 
of  the  yard. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

A  COUNCIL  OF   WAR 

As  I  slipped  through  the  wicket  I  cast  a  hur- 
ried glance  around  me,  and  then,  acting  on  the 
impulse  of  the  moment,  ran  forwards  along  the 
road  for  about  fifty  paces,  with  Babette's  dagger 
clenched  in  my  hand.  There  I  was  brought  to  a 
stand  by  a  dead  wall,  studded  with  iron  spikes  at 
the  top,  which  rose  sheer  above  me  for  fully 
twenty  feet  and  barred  all  further  progress.  It 
was  evident  that  the  Toison  d*Or  stood  in  a  blind 
alley,  and  that  I  had  taken  the  wrong  turning. 
Not  even  an  ape  could  have  scaled  the  moss- 
grown  and  slippery  surface  of  those  stones,  and, 
leaning  against  a  buttress  in  the  darkest  corner  of 
the  wall,  I  stood  for  a  moment  or  so  and  waited, 
determined  to  sell  my  life  as  dearly  as  possible 
should  I  be  pursued.  There  was  no  sound,  how- 
ever ;  all  was  still  as  the  grave.  I  ran  my  e3^e 
down  the  road,  but  the  moon  was  not  bright 
enough  to  penetrate  the  shadows,  and  I  could 
make  out  nothing  except  the  many-storied  and 
gabled  buildings  that,  packed  closely  to  each 
other,  beetled  over  the  passage.  The  hanging 
turrets  projecting  from  these  houses  were  for  all 

252 


A    COUNCIL    OF    WAR  253 

the  world  like  gigantic  wasps'  nests,  such  as  are 
seen  clinging  to  the  rocks  of  the  upper  Dordogne. 
Here  and  there  a  turret  window  showed  a  light 
glimmering  behind  it,  and,  had  I  time,  I  might 
have  pictured  to  myself  a  resemblance  between 
this  ^beetle-browed  '  passage  to  that  of  some  long, 
narrow,  and  sluggish  mountain  tarn,  guarded  on 
each  side  by  an  impassable  barrier  of  frowning 
rocks.  It  was,  however,  not  a  moment  to  let  one- 
self be  impressed  by  scenery,  and,  eyes  and  ears 
on  the  stretch,  I  peered  into  the  indistinct  light 
to  see  the  slightest  movement,  to  catch  the  slight- 
est sound.  But  the  silence  remained  undisturbed. 
It  was  an  eyrie  of  night-hawks,  and  they  were 
hunting  now  far  from  their  nests.  So  I  stole  forth 
from  the  shadow  of  the  buttress,  and,  keeping  the 
dagger  ready  to  strike,  retraced  my  steps  past 
the  Toison  d'Or  and  along  the  winding  and 
crooked  passage,  keeping  as  far  away  from  the 
walls  as  possible  to  avoid  any  sudden  attack, 
until  at  last  I  found  myself  in  a  cross  street,  down 
which  I  went,  taking  note  of  such  landmarks  as  I 
could  to  guide  me  back,  when  I  should  return 
with  vengeance  in  my  right  hand.  The  cross 
street  led  into  other  winding  and  twisting  lanes, 
whose  squalid  inhabitants  were  either  flitting  up 
and  down,  or  quarrelling  amongst  themselves,  or 
else  sitting  in  a  sullen  silence.  I  guessed  I  had 
got  myself  into  one  of  the  very  worst  parts  of 
Paris,  and  as  I  had  heard  that  it  was  more  than 
dangerous  to  be  recognised  in  such  places  as  one 
not  belonging  to  the  noble  order  of  cut-purses,  I 


254  THE   CHEVALIER  D'AURIAC 

did  not  halt  to  make  inquiries,  but  pursued  my 
way  steadily  along  the  labyrinth  of  streets,  feeling 
more  lost  at  every  step  I  took.  Once  or  twice  I 
passed  a  street  stall,  and,  as  the  flare  of  the  torches 
which  lit  up  its  gruesome  contents  fell  on  me,  I 
was  looked  at  curiously;  but  so  soiled  and  wet 
was  I,  so  torn  my  cloak  and  doublet  in  the  strug- 
gle with  de  Gomeron's  bravos,  that  at  the  most 
they  took  me  for  a  night-hawk  of  superior  feather, 
whose  plumes  had  been  ruffled  by  a  meeting  with 
the  law.  That  I  inspired  this  idea  was  evident, 
indeed,  from  the  way  in  which  one  terrible-look- 
ing old  man  leaned  forwards  and,  shaking  his  pal- 
sied finger  at  me,  croaked  out : 

'  Run,  captain  ;  run,  Messire  de  Montfaucon  ! ' 
I  hurried  past  as  fast  as  I  could,  followed  by 
the   laughter   of   those   who    heard    the  remark, 
thinking  to  myself  it  was  lucky  it  was  no  worse 
than  a  jibe  that  was  flung  at  me. 

How  long  I  wandered  in  that  maze  of  streets  I 
cannot  say,  but  at  last  I  came  upon  an  open  space, 
and,  finding  it  more  or  less  empty,  stopped  to 
take  my  bearings.  My  only  chance  to  get  back 
to  my  lodging  that  night — and  it  was  all-impor- 
tant to  do  so — was  to  strike  the  Seine  at  some 
point  or  other ;  but  in  what  direction  the  river 
lay,  I  could  not,  for  the  life  of  me,  teU.  At  last  I 
determined  to  steer  by  the  moon,  and,  holding 
her  track  to  the  south-west  of  me,  went  on,  keep- 
ing as  a  landmark  on  my  left  the  tall  spire  of  a 
church  whose  name  I  then  did  not  know.  So  I 
must  have    plodded  on  for  about  an  hour,  until 


A    COUNCIL    OF    WAR  255 

at  last  I  was  sensible  that  the  street  in  which  I 
was  in  was  wider  than  the  others  I  had  passed 
through,  and,  finally,  I  saw  before  me  a  couple  of 
lanterns,  evidently  slung  on  a  rope  that  stretched 
across  a  street  much  broader  still  than  the  one  I 
was  in.  That,  and  the  sight  of  the  lanterns,  con- 
vinced me  that  I  had  gained  one  of  the  main  arte- 
ries of  the  city,  and  it  was  with  an  inward  ^  Thank 
God  ! '  that  I  stepped  under  the  light  and  looked 
about  me,  uncertain  which  direction  I  should 
take,  for  if  I  kept  the  moon  behind  me,  as  I  had 
done  hitherto,  I  should  have  to  cross  over  and 
leave  the  street,  and  I  felt  sure  this  would  be  a 
serious  error  that  would  only  lead  me  into  further 
difficulties.  It  was  as  yet  not  more  than  a  half- 
hour  or  so  beyond  compline,  so  the  street  was 
full.  And  unwilling  to  attract  the  attention  of 
the  watch,  which  had  a  habit  of  confining  its  beat 
to  places  where  it  was  least  required,  I  began  to 
stroll  slowly  down,  determined  to  inquire  the  way 
of  the  first  passer-by  who  looked  in  a  mood  amia- 
ble enough  to  exchange  a  word  with  so  bedrag- 
gled a  wretch  as  I  was  then. 

I  had  not  long  to  wait,  for  in  a  short  time  I 
noticed  one  who  was  evidently  a  well-to-do  citizen 
hurrying  along,  with  a  persuading  staff  in  his  right 
hand,  and  the  muffled  figure  of  a  lady  clinging  on 
to  his  left  arm.  I  could  make  out  nothing  of  her; 
but  the  man  himself  was  short  and  stout  of  figure, 
and  I  ran  to  the  conclusion  that  he  must  be  a 
cheery  soul,  for,  as  far  as  I  could  see  by  the  light 
of   the  street  lamps,  he  looked  like  one  who  en- 


2S6  THE   CHEVALIER   D'AURIAC 

joyed  a  good  meal  and  a  can  to  follow,  and  ap- 
proaching, I  addressed  him — 

*  Pardon,  monsieur,  but  I  have  lost  my  way/ 

I  had  hardly  spoken  so  much,  when,  loosening 
his  arm  from  the  lady,  the  little  man  jumped  back 
a  yard,  and  began  flourishing  his  stick. 

I  saw  that  in  the  next  moment  he  would  shout 
for  the  watch,  and  stopped  him  with  a  quick — 

'  Monsieur,  I  have  been  attacked  and  robbed — 
there,*  and  I  pointed  in  the  direction  whence  I 
had  come.  *  I  have  escaped  but  with  my  life,  and 
I  pray  you  tell  me  how  to  find  my  way  to  the  Rue 
de  Bourdonnais.*  The  lady,  who  had  at  first  re- 
treated with  a  little  cry  of  alarm  behind  her  com- 
panion, here  stepped  forward  with  a  soft — 

*  Poor  man  !  are  you  much  hurt  ? ' 

'  Not  in  the  least,  mademoiselle,  thank  you,'  and 
1  unconsciously  moved  a  step  forward. 

*  Stand  back  !  *  called  out  the  little  man,  dabbing 
his  stick  at  me,  '  and  say  Madame,  sir — the  lady  is 
my  wife.' 

*  Pardon  my  error,  sir,  but * 

The  lady,  however,  interposed — 

*  Be  still.  Mangel.  So  you  wish  to  find  the  Rue 
de  Bourdonnais,  sir?  * 

'  He  had  better  find  the  watch,*  interrupted 
Maitre  Mangel ;  *  they  have  gone  that  w^ay, 
towards  the  Porte  St.  Martin.' 

*  This,  then,  is  the * 

'  Rue  St.  Martin.* 

'  A  hundred  thanks,  mademoiselle.' 

*  Madame — Madame  Mangel,  monsieur.' 


A    COUNCIL    OF    WAR  25/ 

*  Pardon,  I  now  know  where  I  am,  and  have 
only  to  follow  my  nose  to  get  to  where  I  want.  I 
thank  you  once  more,  and  good  night/ 

*  Good  night,  monsieur,'  answered  Madame ;  but 
Maitre  Mangel,  who  was  evidently  of  a  jealous 
complexion,  tucked  his  wife  under  his  arm  and  hur- 
ried her  off,  muttering  something  under  his  breath. 

I  let  my  eye  follow  them  for  a  moment  or  so, 
and  ere  they  had  gone  many  paces,  Madame  Man- 
gel, who  appeared  to  be  of  a  frolicsome  spirit, 
turned  her  head  and  glanced  over  her  shoulder, 
but  was  immediately  pulled  back  with  a  jerk  by 
her  husband,  whose  hand  moved  in  much  the  same 
manner  as  that  of  a  nervous  rider  when  clawing 
at  the  reins  of  a  restive  horse.  Then  I,  too, 
turned  and  went  down  in  an  opposite  direction 
along  the  Rue  St.  Martin,  smiling  to  myself  at  the 
little  scene  I  had  witnessed,  and  my  spirits  rising 
at  every  step  I  took,  for  I  felt  each  moment  was 
bringing  me  nearer  the  time  when  I  should  be  able 
to  effect  Claude's  freedom,  and  balance  my  ac- 
count with  Adam  de  Gomeron.  At  last  I  saw  the 
spire  of  St.  Jacques  de  la  Boucherie  to  my  right, 
and  a  few  steps  more  brought  me  to  the  bridge  of 
Notre  Dame.  The  passage  was,  however,  closed, 
and,  turning  to  the  west,  I  kept  along  the  river 
face  and  made  for  the  Pont  du  Change,  hoping 
that  this  bridge  would  be  open,  else  I  should  per- 
force be  compelled  to  swim  the  Seine  once  more, 
as  no  boats  were  allowed  to  ply  during  the  night. 
Here,  however,  I  was  not  disappointed,  and  thread- 
ing my  way  through  the  crowd  that  still  lingered 
17 


258  THE   CHEVALIER   D'AURIAC 

round  the  money-changers'  stalls,  I  soon  found 
myself  in  the  Barillierie,  and  hastening  past  Sainte 
Chapelle  to  the  Rue  des  Deux  Mondes.  I  had 
determined  in  the  first  instance  to  seek  out  de 
Belin,  but  thought  better  of  that  as  I  went  along 
the  Rue  St.  Martin,  when  I  considered  how  un- 
likely I  was  to  find  my  friend  at  home,  whereas, 
on  the  other  hand,  the  notary  and  his  wife  were 
sure  to  be  in  their  house  ;  and  it  moreover  struck 
me  as  being  the  safest  plan  to  go  straight  there  un- 
til I  could  communicate  with  de  Belin.  For  i-f  I 
should  be  suspected  of  making  away  with  Madame, 
no  one  would  think  me  fool  enough  to  come  back 
to  my  lodging,  which  was  well  known,  no  doubt, 
and  where  I  could  be  trapped  at  once. 

At  last  I  was  once  again  in  the  Rue  des  Deux 
Mondes,  very  footsore  and  weary,  but  kept  up  by 
the  thought  of  what  I  had  before  me,  and  ready  to 
drop  dead  before  I  should  yield  to  fatigue.  There 
was  no  one  in  the  street,  and,  seizing  the  huge 
knocker,  I  hammered  at  the  door  in  a  manner 
loud  enough  to  waken  the  dead.  It  had  the  effect 
of  arousing  one  or  two  of  the  inhabitants  of  the 
adjoining  houses,  who  opened  their  windows  and 
peered  out  into  the  night,  and  then  shut  them 
again  hastily,  for  the  wind  blew  chill  across  the 
Passeur  aux  Vaches.  There  was  no  answer  to  my 
knock,  and  then  I  again  beat  furiously  at  the  door, 
with  a  little  sinking  of  my  heart  as  it  came  to  me 
that  perhaps  some  harm  had  befallen  these  good 
people.  This  time,  however,  I  heard  a  noise 
within,  and  presently  Pantin's  voice,  inquiring  in 


A    COUNCIL    OF    WAR  259 

angry  accents  who  it  was  that  disturbed  the  rest 
of  honest  people  at  so  late  an  hour. 

^  Open,  Pantin/  I  shouted ;  '  it  is  I — do  you  not 
know  me?* 

Then  I  heard  another  voice,  and  a  sudden  joy 
went  through  me,  for  it  was  that  of  my  trusty 
Jacques. 

*  Grand  Dieu !  It  is  the  Chevalier !  Open  the 
door  quick,  man  !  * 

It  was  done  in  a  trice,  and  as  I  stepped  in  Pan- 
tin  closed  it  again  rapidly,  whilst  Jacques  seized 
my  hand  in  his,  and  then,  letting  it  go,  gambolled 
about  like  a  great  dog  that  had  just  found  its 
master. 

I  noticed,  however,  at  the  first  glance  I  took 
round,  that  both  Pantin  and  Jacques  were  fully 
dressed,  late  as  it  was,  and  that  the  notary  was 
very  pale,  and  the  hand  in  which  he  held  a  lan- 
tern was  visibly  trembling. 

'  Monsieur,'  he  began,  and  then  stopped  ;  but  I 
understood  the  question  in  his  voice,  and  an- 
swered at  once — 

*  Pantin,  I  have  come  back  to  free  her — come 
back  almost  from  the  dead.' 

'  Then,  monsieur,  there  are  those  here  who  can 
help  you  still.  I  had  thought  you  brought  the 
worst  news,*  and  he  looked  at  me  where  I  stood, 
soiled  and  wet.  *  This  way,  monsieur  le  cheva- 
lier,' he  continued. 

'  In  a  moment,  Pantin,'  cut  in  dame  Annette's 
voice,  and  the  good  woman  came  up  to  me  with 
a  flagon  of  warmed  wine  in  her  hand. 


26o  THE   CHEVALIER  D'AURIAC 

*Take  this  first,  chevalier,  *tis  Maitre  Pantin*s 
nightcap  ;  but  I  do  not  think  he  will  need  it  this 
night.  God  be  thanked  you  have  come  back 
safe/ 

I  wrung  her  hand,  and  drained  the  wine  at  a 
draught,  and  then,  with  Pantin  ahead  holding 
his  lantern  aloft,  we  ascended  the  stair  that  led 
to  my  apartments.  As  we  went  up  I  asked 
Jacques — 

'  Did  you  manage  the  business?* 

'  Yes,  monsieur,  and  Marie  and  her  father  are 
both  safe  at  Auriac.  I  rode  back  almost  without 
drawing  rein,  and  reached  here  but  this  after- 
noon ;  and  then,  monsieur,  I  heard  what  had  hap- 
pened, and  gave  you  up  for  lost.' 

At  this  juncture  we  reached  the  small  landing 
near  the  sitting-room  I  had  occupied,  and  Pantin 
without  further  ceremony  flung  open  the  door, 
and  announced  me  by  name.  I  stepped  in  with 
some  surprise,  the  others  crowding  after  me,  and 
at  the  first  glance  recognised,  to  my  astonish- 
ment, de  Belin,  who  had  half  risen  from  his  seat, 
his  hand  on  his  sword-hilt,  as  the  door  was  flung 
open ;  and  in  the  other  figure,  seated  in  an  arm- 
chair, and  staring  moodily  into  the  fire,  saw  Palin, 
who,  however,  made  no  movement  beyond  turn- 
ing his  head  and  looking  coldly  at  me.  Not  so 
Belin,  for  he  sprang  forwards  to  meet  me  in  his 
impulsive  way,  calling  out — 

'Arnidieu!  You  are  back  !  Palin,  take  heart, 
man  !     He  would  never  have  come  back  alone.* 

The  last  words  hit  me  like  a  blow,  and  my  con- 


A    COUNCIL    OF    WAR  26 1 

fusion  was  increased  by  the  demeanour  of  Palin, 
who  gave  no  sign  of  recognition ;  and  there  I 
stood  in  the  midst  of  them,  fumbling  with  the  hilt 
of  my  sword,  and  facing  the  still,  motionless  fig- 
ure before  me,  the  light  of  the  candles  falling  on 
the  stern,  drawn  features  of  the  Huguenot. 

My  forehead  grew  hot  with  shame  and  anger, 
as  I  looked  from  one  to  another,  and  then,  like  a 
criminal  before  a  judge,  I  faced  the  old  man  and 
told  him  exactly  what  had  happened — all  except 
one  thing ;  that  I  kept  back.  At  the  mention  of 
Ravaillac's  name,  and  of  his  identity  with  the 
Capuchin,  the  Vicompte  de  Belin  swore  bitterly 
under  his  moustache ;  and  but  for  that  exclama- 
tion my  story  was  heard  in  stillness  to  its  bitter 
end.  For  a  moment  one  might  have  heard  a  pin 
fall,  and  then  Palin  said,  '  And  you  left  her — 
there!'  The  dry  contempt  of  his  manner  stung 
me  ;  but  I  could  say  nothing,  save  mutter — 

*  I  did  what  I  could.' 

'  The  one  ewe-lamb  of  the  fold — the  last  and  the 
best  beloved,'  he  said,  as  if  speaking  to  himself ; 
and  then  in  a  sudden  fury  he  sprang  to  his  feet. 
*  But  why  do  we  stand  prating  here?  There 
are  five  of  us,  and  we  know  where  she  is — 
come.' 

But  Belin  put  his  hand  on  his  shoulder.  '  Pa- 
tience, Maitre  Palin — patience.' 

*  I  have  had  enough  of  patience  and  enough  of 
trusting  others,'  and  the  Huguenot  shook  off  his 
hand  and  looked  at  me  with  a  scowl.  '  Come, 
Monsieur  d'Auriac ;  if  you  would  make  amends. 


262  THE  CHEVALIER  D'AURIAC 

lead  me  to  this  Toison  d'Or  and  we  will  see  what 
an  old  arm  can  do.* 

'  I  am  ready/  I  answered. 

But  Belin  again  interfered. 

'  Messieurs,  this  is  madness.  From  what  I  have 
gathered  d'Auriac  will  prove  but  a  blind  guide 
back.  We  are  not,  moreover,  sure  that  Madame 
is  there.  Sit  still  here,  you  Palin ;  neither  you 
nor  d'Auriac  are  fit  to  think.  Fore  Gad  !  it  was 
lucky  I  thought  of  this  for  our  meeting-place  to- 
night, Palin.     Sit  still  and  let  me  think.' 

*  I  can  think  well  enough,*  I  cut  in,  *  and  I  have 
my  plan ;  but  I  should  like  to  ask  a  question  or 
two  before  I  speak.* 

*  And  these  questions  are ?  ' 

*  I  presume  I  am  suspected  of  this  abduction  ?  * 

*  And  of  more.  Nom  de  dieu  I  Man !  your 
mare  was  found  dead,  and  beside  her  one  of  the 
Marshal's  guards,  run  through  the  heart/  an- 
swered de  Belin. 

*  Then  of  course  if  I  am  seen  I  am  in  danger? ' 

*  A  miracle  only  could  save  you.  The  King  is 
enraged  beyond  measure,  and  swears  he  will  let 
the  Edict  go  in  its  full  force  against  you.  The 
Camarguer  has  made  a  fine  story  of  it,  saying  how 
he  tried  to  stop  the  abduction,  but  failed  in  the 
attempt.* 

'  In  short,  then,  it  would  ruin  all  chances  if  we 
adopt  Maitre  Palin's  suggestion  ? ' 

*  You  are  saving  me  the  trouble  of  thinking.' 

*  Again,*  I  went  on,  *  it  is  not  certain  if  Madame 
is  still  at  the  Toison  d*Or,  and  apart  from  that  I 


A    COUNCIL    OF   WAR  263 

doubt  if  1  could  find  my  way  back  there  to-night, 
unless  anyone  could  guide  me,*  and  I  looked  at 
the  Pantins,  who  shook  their  heads  sorrowfully. 

'This  settles  our  going  out  to-night,'  I  went 
on  ;  *  there  is  but  one  thing  to  do  to-morrow — to 
find  the  house.  It  will  be  easy  to  discover  if 
Madame  is  within.  After  that  I  propose  a  rescue 
by  the  ordinary  means  of  the  law.' 

*  Would  it  not  be  as  simple  to  have  recourse  to 
Villeroi  the  first  thing  to-morrow?'  asked  Belin. 

*  Simple  enough ;  but  the  law  has  its  delays, 
and  if  once  the  house  is  raided  and  Madame  is 
not  there  we  may  whistle  for  our  prize.' 

*  But  the  wheel?'  put  in  Pantin. 

*  Will  break  Babette,  who  will  not  know.  M. 
de  Gomeron  is  no  fool  to  trust  her  more  than  the 
length  of  his  hand.  No — I  will  leave  nothing  to 
chance.  I  propose  then  to  seek  out  the  house  to- 
morrow, with  Pantin's  help,  if  he  will  give  it.' 

*  Most  willingly,'  put  in  the  notary. 

*  Thanks,  my  good  friend.  That  we  will  find  it 
I  am  certain,  and  then  we  can  act.  In  the  mean- 
time I  must  ask  you  by  all  means  in  your  power 
to  get  the  search  of  the  law  after  me  delayed.' 

'  Then  M.  de  Villeroi  must  hear  some  certain 
news  to-morrow,'  said  Annette. 

*  There  speaks  a  woman's  wit,'  exclaimed  Be- 
lin ;  *  well,  after  all,  perhaps  your  plan  is  the 
best.' 

'  And  in  this  search  of  to-morrow  I  will  share,' 
Palin  suddenly  exclaimed.  But  my  heart  was 
sore  against  him  for  what  he  had  said. 


264  THE   CHEVALIER  D'AURIAC 

'  Pardon  me,  Maitre  Palin  ;  this  is  my  right — I 
do  this  alone/ 

*  Your  right,'  he  sneered. 

'  Yes,  Maitre  Palin,  my  right ;  I  go  to  rescue 
my  promised  wife.* 

*  And  besides,  Monsieur  le  Chevalier  will  want 
no  help,  for  I  am  here,*  Jacques  must  needs  thrust 
in ;  '  and  when  Monsieur  is  married,*  he  blun- 
dered on,  '  we  will  rebuild  Auriac,  mount  a  brace 
of  bombards  on  the  keep,  and  erect  a  new  gallows 
for  ill-doers.* 

*  Silence,  sir !  *  I  thundered,  half  beside  myself 
at  the  idiot's  folly,  for  I  saw  the  gleam  in  the  eyes 
of  Pantin  and  his  wife,  and  despite  the  gravity  of 
the  occasion  de  Belin  had  hard  to  do  to  repress 
an  open  laugh. 

As  for  Palin,  he  said  nothing  for  a  moment,  his 
features  twitching  nervously.  At  last  he  turned 
to  me,  *  It  is  what  I  have  hoped  and  prayed  for,' 
he  said,  holding  out  his  hand ;  *  forgive  me- — I 
take  back  the  words  so  hastily  spoken — it  is  an 
old  man  who  seeks  your  pardon.* 

I  took  his  hand  in  all  frankness,  and  he  em- 
braced me  as  a  son,  and  then  in  a  while  Belin 
said — 

'  We  must  be  up  and  doing  early  to-morrow, 
and  d'Auriac  is  in  need  of  rest.  He  will  share 
my  bed  here  to-night ;  and  harkee,  Pantin !  rouse 
us  with  the  dawn.* 

We  then  parted,  the  Pantins  showing  the  Hu- 
guenot to  his  chamber,  and  Jacques  but  waiting 
for  a  moment  or  so  to  help  me  off  with  my  drip- 


A    COUNCIL    OF    WAR  265 

ping  things.  My  valises  were  still  lying  in  the 
room,  and  I  was  thus  enabled  to  get  the  change 
of  apparel  I  so  much  needed. 

When  at  last  we  were  abed  I  found  it  im- 
possible to  sleep,  and  Belin  was  at  first  equally 
wakeful.  For  this  I  was  thankful,  as  I  began  to 
grow  despondent,  and  felt  that  after  all  I  had  lost 
the  game  utterly.  But  the  Vicompte's  courage 
never  faltered,  and  in  spite  of  myself  I  began  to 
be  cheered  by  his  hopefulness.  He  explained  to 
me  fully  how  it  came  that  he  was  at  the  Rue  des 
Deux  Mondes.  He  wished  to  discuss  with  Palin 
some  means  for  discovering  me,  and  as  the  Hu- 
guenot, fearing  to  return  to  the  Rue  Varenne 
after  what  had  happened,  and  yet  was  unwilling  to 
leave  Paris,  had  sought  Pantin's  home,  de  Belin 
had  determined  to  pass  the  night  here  to  consult 
with  him,  giving  out  to  his  people  that  he  had 
gone  on  a  business  to  Monceaux. 

'  I  will  see  Sully  the  first  thing  to-morrow,'  he 
said,  as  we  discussed  our  plans,  '  and  if  I  mistake 
not  it  is  more  than  Madame  we  will  find  at  the 
Toison  d'Or.  Be  of  good  cheer,  d'Auriac,  your 
lady  will  come  to  no  harm.  The  Camarguer  is 
playing  too  great  a  game  to  kill  a  goose  that  is 
likely  to  lay  him  golden  eggs.  I'm  afraid  though 
he  has  spoilt  a  greater  game  for  his  master.' 

*  How  do  you  mean?'  I  asked,  interested  in 
spite  of  myself. 

*  Only  this,  that  unless  you  are  extremely  un- 
fortunate I  regard  the  rescue  of  Madame  de 
Bidache  as  certain.     I  am  as  certain  that  this  will 


266  THE    CHEVALIER   D'AURIAC 

lead  to  the  arrest  of  de  Gomeron  and  his  con- 
federates. They  will  taste  the  wheel,  and  that 
makes  loose  tongues,  and  it  may  lead  to  details 
concerning  M.  de  Biron  that  we  sadly  need.* 

*  It  seems  to  me  that  the  wheel  is  perilously 
near  to  me  as  well.* 

*  There  is  the  Edict,  of  course,'  said  de  Belin, 
*  but  Madame's  evidence  will  absolve  you,  and  we 
can  arrange  that  you  are  not  put  to  the  question 
at  once.' 

The  cool  way  in  which  he  said  this  would  have 
moved  me  to  furious  anger  against  him  did  I  not 
know  him  to  be  so  true  a  friend.  As  it  was  I  said 
sharply — 

*  Thank  you,  I  will  take  care  that  the  wheel  does 
not  touch  me.' 

*  Very  well,'  he  answered;  *and  now  I  shall 
sleep;   good  night.' 

He  turned  on  his  side  and  seemed  to  drop  off 
at  once,  and  as  I  lay  through  the  weary  hours  of 
that  night  I  sometimes  used  to  turn  to  the  still 
figure  at  my  side  with  envy  at  the  peace  of  his 
slumber. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

MAITRE   PANTIN   SELLS   CABBAGES 

At  last,  just  as  my  patience  was  worn  to  its  last 
shred,  I  saw  the  glaze  in  the  window  begin  to 
whiten,  and  almost  immediately  after  heard  foot- 
steps on  the  landing.  This  was  enough  for  me, 
and,  unable  to  be  still  longer,  I  sprang  out  of  bed 
and  hastened  to  open  the  door  myself.  It  ad- 
mitted Jacques,  and  a  figure  in  whom  I  should 
never  have  recognised  the  notary  had  I  not  known 
that  it  could  be  no  other  than  Pantin.  Jacques 
bore  a  tray  loaded  with  refreshments,  and  Pantin 
held  a  lantern,  for  it  was  still  dark,  in  one  hand, 
and  something  that  looked  like  the  folds  of  a  long 
cloak  hung  in  the  loop  of  his  arm.  The  noise  of 
their  entrance  awoke  de  Belin.  With  a  muttered 
exclamation  I  did  not  catch,  he  roused  himself, 
and,  the  candles  being  lit,  we  proceeded  to  make 
a  hasty  toilet.  As  I  drew  on  my  boots  I  saw  they 
were  yet  wet  and  muddy,  and  was  about  to  rate 
Jacques  when  Pantin  anticipated,  '  I  told  him  to 
let  them  be  so,  monsieur, — you  have  a  part  to 
play ;  put  this  over  your  left  eye.*  And  with 
these  words  he  handed  me  a  huge  patch.  Then, 
in  place  of  my  own  hat,  I  found  I  had  to  wear  a 

267 


268  THE   CHEVALIER  D'AURIAC 

frayed  cap  of  a  dark  sage-green  velvet,  with  a 
scarecrow-looking  white  feather  sticking  from  it. 
Lastly,  Pantin  flung  over  my  shoulders  a  long 
cloak  of  the  same  colour  as  the  cap,  and  seemingly 
as  old.  It  fell  almost  down  to  my  heels,  and  was 
fastened  at  the  throat  by  a  pair  of  leather  straps 
in  lieu  of  a  clasp. 

'  Faith  ! '  exclaimed  the  Vicompte,  as  he  stood  a 
little  to  one  side  and  surveyed  me,  ^  if  you  play 
up  to  your  dress  you   are    more  likely  to  adorn, 
than  raise  the  gallows  Jacques  spoke  of.* 

But  I  cut  short  his  gibing  with  an  impatient 
command  to  Pantin  to  start.  The  little  man, 
however,  demurred — 

'You  must  eat  something  first,  monsieur — not  a 
step  will  I  budge  till  you  have  done  that.' 

I  forced  myself  to  swallow  a  little,  during  which 
time  our  plans  of  overnight  were  hastily  run  over ; 
Palin,  who  had  joined  us,  declared  he  would  go 
to  the  Princess  Catherine,  and  seek  her  aid.  We 
knew  that  was  useless,  but  not  desiring  to  thwart 
the  old  man  let  him  have  his  will.  It  was  decided, 
however,  in  case  I  had  anything  to  communicate, 
that  I  should  hasten  to  the  Rue  de  Bourdonnais, 
and  that  in  the  meantime  the  Vicompte  would  see 
the  Master-General  at  once  and  try  what  could 
be  done.  This  being  settled,  and  having,  ordered 
Jacques,  who  protested  loudly,  to  stay  behind, 
Pantin  and  I  started  off  on  our  search  for  the 
Toison  d'Or. 

As  he  closed  the  entrance  door  behind  him  care- 
fully,  and  Jacques  turned  the  key,  I  looked  up 


MAITRE  PAN  TIN  SELLS   CABBAGES        269 

ind  down  the  Rue  des  Deux  Mondes,  but  there 
was  not  a  soul  stirring. 

*  'Tis  the  cold  hour,  monsieur/  said  Pantin, 
shivering  as  he  drew  the  remnant  of  a  cloak  he 
wore  closer  over  his  shoulders,  'and  we  are  safe 
from  all  eyes,'  and  then  I  noticed  for  the  first  time 
that  his  feet  were  bare,  and  that  he  carried  a  pair 
of  old  shoes  in  one  hand  and  an  empty  basket  in 
the  other. 

*  But  you  are  not  going  like  that,  man  !'  I  said  ; 
*  you  will  catch  a  fever.' 

'  We  are  going  to  the  Faubourg  St.  Martin, 
monsieur,  and  there  is  no  danger  of  the  plague 
now.' 

Though  I  could  not  but  feel  more  than  grate- 
ful for  the  way  in  which  the  good  fellow  was 
labouring  for  me,  I  said  nothing,  but  followed  him 
as  he  entered  the  mist  that  rose  from  the  river 
and  clung  heavily  to  its  banks. 

It  was,  as  Pantin  had  said,  the  cold  hour,  and  all 
Paris  was  asleep.  Above  us  the  sky  still  swarmed 
with  stars,  though  a  pale  band  of  light  was  gird- 
ling the  horizon.  Here  and  there  in  the  heaving 
mist  on  the  river  we  saw  the  feeble  glimmer  of 
a  lanthorn  that  had  survived  through  the  night 
and  still  served  to  mark  the  spot  where  a  boat 
wasmooijd.  All  around  us  the  outlines  of  the 
city  rose  in  a  brown  silhouette ;  but  the  golden 
cross  on  the  spire  of  Notre  Dame  had  already 
caught  the  dawn  and  blazed  like  a  beacon  against 
the  grey  of  the  sky  overhead. 

As  the  Pont  au  Change  was  the  latest  of  the 


270  THE    CHEVALIER   D'AURIAC 

bridges  to  close,  it  was  the  earliest  to  open ;  but 
when  we  came  there  we  had  to  cool  our  heels  for 
half  an  hour  or  so  before  we  could  pass  through ; 
and  by  that  time  the  city  was  already  beginning 
to  awake.  I  could  not  repress  a  slight  shudder  as 
we  passed  the  dreary  walls  of  the  Chatelet,  just 
as  the  guard  was  being  changed  at  the  gate,  and 
thought  by  how  lucky  a  chance  I  had  escaped 
being  a  guest  of  M.  de  Breze. 

Once  past  the  Chatelet  we  pushed  on  briskly, 
and  by  the  time  we  had  reached  St.  Jacques  we 
were  warm  enough,  despite  the  chillness  of  the 
morning.  At  a  stall  near  the  church,  and  hard 
by  the  Pont  Notre  Dame,  Pantin  purchased  a 
quantity  of  vegetables,  bidding  me  to  keep  a  little 
ahead  of  him  in  future  and  guide  him  in  this  man- 
ner as  far  as  I  knew.  Whilst  he  was  filling  his 
basket  I  turned  up  the  Rue  St.  Martin,  wonder- 
ing what  the  notary's  object  could  be  in  trans- 
forming himself  into  a  street  hawker.  I  went 
slowly,  stopping  every  now  and  again  to  see  if 
Pantin  was  following,  and  observed  that  he  kept 
on  the  side  of  the  road  opposite  to  me,  and  ever 
and  again  kept  calling  out  his  wares  in  a  monoto- 
nous sing-song  tone.  Thus  far  and  for  a  space 
further  I  knew  the  road,  and,  observing  that  Pan- 
tin  was  able  to  keep  me  well  in  view,  increased 
my  pace  until  at  last  we  came  to  the  cross  street 
near  which  I  had  met  the  jealous  Mangel  and  his 
wife.  Up  the  cross  street  I  turned  without 
hesitation,  now  almost  facing  the  tall  spire  that 
had  been  my  landmark,  and  I  began  to  think   I 


MAITRE  PAN  TIN  SELLS   CABBAGES        2/1 

would  be  able  to  trace  my  way  to  the  Toison  d'Or 
without  difficulty  when  I  suddenly  came  to  a 
standstill  and  faltered.  For  here  there  were  half 
a  dozen  lanes  that  ran  this  way  and  that,  and  for 
the  life  of  me  I  could  not  tell  which  was  the  one  I 
had  taken  but  a  few  hours  before,  so  different  did 
they  look  now  to  what  they  had  appeared  by  moon- 
light. As  I  halted  in  a  doubting  manner  Pantin 
hurried  up,  and,  there  being  one  or  two  near  me, 
began  to  urge  me  to  buy  his  cabbages.  I  made  a 
pretence  of  putting  him  off,  and  then,  the  strangers 
having  passed,  I  explained  I  had  lost  my  bearings. 
*  I  see  a  wine  shop  open  across  the  road,  cheva- 
lier— go  in  and  call  for  a  fliask  and  await  me,'  he 
answered  rapidly. 

I  nodded,  and  bidding  him  begone  in  a  loud  tone, 
swaggered  across  the  street,  and  entering  the  den 
— it  could  be  called  by  no  other  name — shouted 
for  a  litre  of  Beaugency,  and  flung  myself  down 
on  a  rough  stool  with  a  clatter  of  my  sword  and 
a  great  showing  of  the  pistol  butts  that  stuck  out 
from  my  belt. 

The  cabaret  had  just  opened,  but  early  as  I  was 
I  was  not  the  first  customer,  for  a  man  was  sitting 
half-asleep  and  half-drunk  on  one  of  the  foul-look- 
ing benches,  and  as  I  called  for  my  wine,  he  rose 
up,  muttering,  '  Beaugency !  He  wants  Beau- 
gency— there  is  none  here,'  he  went  on  in  a 
maudlin  manner,  turning  to  me.  '  At  the  Toison 
d'Or ' 

I  almost  started  at  the  words  ;  but  the  landlord, 
whose  face  appeared  from  behind  a  cask  at  my 


2T2  THE    CHEVALIER   D'AURIAC 

shout,  and  whose  countenance  now  showed  the 
utmost  anger  at  his  old  client's  speech,  suddenly- 
seized  him  by  the  neck  and  hustled  him  from  the 
room — *  The  drunken  knave  ! '  he  said  with  a 
great  oath,  '  to  say  that  I  kept  no  Beaugency — 
here,  captain,*  and  he  handed  me  a  litre,  with  a 
much  -  stained  glass,  *  here  is  Beaugency  that 
comes  from  More's  own  cellars,'  and  he  looked 
knowingly  at  me. 

Not  wishing  to  hold  converse  with  the  fellow, 
I  filled  the  glass,  and  then,  flinging  him  a  crown, 
bade  him  drink  the  rest  of  the  bottle  for  good 
luck.  The  scoundrel  drank  it  there  and  then, 
and  as  soon  as  he  had  done  so  returned  to  the 
charge. 

*  It  is  good  wine — eh,  captain  ? ' 

'  It  is,'  I  answered  drily  ;  but  he  was  not  to  be 
denied. 

*  Monsieur  is  out  early,  I  see.' 

*  Monsieur  is  out  late,  you  mean,'  I  made  an- 
swer, playing  my  part,  and  longing  for  Pantin  to 
return. 

*  Ho !  ho  ! '  he  roared  ;  *  a  good  joke — captain, 
I  do  not  know  you,  but  tell  me  your  name,  and, 
curse  me,  if  I  do  not  drink  your  health  in  Arbois 
the  day  you  ride  to  Montfaucon.' 

'  You  will  know  my  name  soon  enough,'  I  an- 
swered, humouring  the  fellow,  *  and  I  promise  to 
send  you  the  Arbois  the  day  I  ride  there.  I  may 
tell  you  that  it  was  to  the  Toison  d'Or  I  was  re- 
commended by  my  friends ;  but  your  Beaugency 
and  your  company  are  so  good  compere  that   I 


MAITRE  PAN  TIN  SELLS   CABBAGES        273 

shall  make  this  my  house  of  call  during  my  stay 
in  the  Faubourg  St.  Martin/ 

'  Damn  the  Toison  d'Or,'  he  exclaimed,  '  and 
you  are  a  good  fellow.  Let  me  warn  you  in  turn 
that  the  Toison  d'Or  is  no  longer  safe.' 

*  What  do  you  mean  ? '  I  asked,  leaning  for- 
wards. 

'  For  you,  and  for  me,  monsieur.' 

'  Ah — my  luck  is  good  as  your  wine,*  and  at 
that  moment  I  caught  sight  of  Pantin.  '  There  is 
another  crown  to  drink  to  our  friendship,  and 
mind  you  keep  as  good  a  flask  for  me  against  my 
return  at  noon — au  revoir !  I  have  a  business  at 
my  lodging.' 

The  wretch  overwhelmed  me  with  thanks  and 
stood  at  the  door  watching  me  as  I  crossed  over 
the  street,  with  a  warning  glance  to  Pantin,  and 
strolled  slowly  onwards.  A  little  further  on  I 
turned  to  my  left,  keeping  well  in  the  middle  of 
the  road  to  avoid  the  filth  and  refuse  thrown 
carelessly  on  each  side,  and  as  I  turned  I  saw  that 
my  man  had  gone  in.  I  was  certain  of  one  thing, 
that  the  Toison  d'Or  was  not  far  off,  and  whilst  I 
picked  my  way  slowly  along  Pantin  came  up  to 
me  with  his  sing-song  whine. 

'  Have  you  found  it?  '  I  asked  in  a  low  tone. 

*  No,'  he  sang  out. 

At  this  moment  a  figure  rose  up  from  the  steps 
of  a  house  where  I  had  noticed  it  crouching,  a 
few  feet  from  me,  and  swung  forwards. 

*  Hola  !  'Tis  Monsieur  le  Capitaine  !  Has  your 
excellency  tasted  the  Beaugency — the  dog-poison. 

18 


274  THE   CHEVALIER   D'AURIAC 

I  tell  your  excellency  there  is  but  one  house  in 
the  Faubourg  where  they  sell  it — the  Toison 
d'Or/ 

'  Go  and  drink  some  there,  then/  and  I  tossed 
him  a  piece  of  silver. 

He  picked  it  up  from  the  road  where  it  had 
fallen  like  a  dog  snatching  at  a  bone,  and  then 
stood  surveying  the  coin,  which  he  held  in  the 
open  palm  of  his  hand. 

^  You  might,*  he  said  ;  *  they  would  not  serve 
me,*  and  then  with  a  drunken  familiarity  he  came 
close  to  my  elbow.  *  Til  show  you  the  Toison 
d'Or.  It  is  there — the  second  turn  to  the  left  and 
then  straight  before  you.  As  for  me,  I  go  back  to 
taste  Grigot's  Beaugency — his  dog-poison,'  he  re- 
peated with  the  spiteful  insistence  of  a  man  in  his 
cups. 

*  The  fool  in  his  folly  speaketh  wisdom  ! '  Pan- 
tin  muttered  under  his  breath,  and  then  the  man, 
staggering  from  me,  attempted  to  go  back  whence 
he  had  been  flung,  but  either  the  morning  air  was 
too  strong  for  him,  or  else  he  was  taken  with  a 
seizure  of  some  kind,  for  ere  he  had  gone  ten 
paces  he  fell  forwards  on  his  face,  and  lay  there 
in  the  slime  of  the  street. 

At  any  other  time  I  would  have  stopped  to  as 
sist  the  man,  but  now  I  could  only  look  upon  hie 
condition  as  a  direct  interposition  of  Providence 
and  I  let  him  lay  where  he  had  fallen. 

'  Come,  Pantin,*  I  cried,  '  we  have  found  the 
spot.* 

Following  the  directions  given  by  our  guide 


MAITRE  PAN  TIN  SELLS   CABBAGES        2/5 

we  found  he  had  not  deceived  us,  and  in  a  few 
minutes  I  was  standing  at  the  entrance  of  the 
blind  passage,  at  one  end  of  which  was  the  Toison 
d'Or. 

The  wasps'  nest  was  not  yet  awake,  but  as  I 
stood  for  a  moment  discussing  with  Pantin  what 
we  should  do  next,  a  couple  of  men  well  muffled 
in  cloaks  passed  down  the  lane  on  the  opposite 
side,  and  it  was  all  I  could  do  to  preserve  an  ex- 
pression of  unconcern  on  my  face,  for  in  one  of 
the  two  I  recognised  Lafin.  He,  too,  stooped  for 
a  moment,  as  if  to  fasten  a  point  that  had  come 
undone,  and,  whilst  doing  so,  fixed  his  eyes  full 
on  me.  I  met  his  gaze  as  one  might  look  at  a 
perfect  stranger,  but  seeing  he  continued  it,  put 
my  hand  to  the  hilt  of  my  sword  with  a  scowl. 
The  doubt  on  his  face  cleared  on  the  instant  to  a 
look  of  relief,  and  I  saw  his  thin  lips  curve  into  a 
slight  smile  of  contempt  as  he  rose  and  walked 
quietly  after  his  companion.  That  swaggering 
movement  of  my  hand  to  my  sword-hilt  had  con- 
vinced him  that  I  was  one  of  the  swashbucklers 
of  the  Faubourg  St.  Martin,  and  as  such  un- 
worthy even  of  the  contempt  of  the  heir  of  the 
Vidame. 

*  Who  is  it  ? '  asked  Pantin,  who  had  been  ob- 
serving me  closely. 

'  Lafin.* 

*  Are  you  sure,  monsieur?' 

I  nodded,  and  he  went  on,  *  Then,  monsieur,  if  I 
mistake  not,  M.  le  Vicompte  is  right,  and  we 
hunt  the  boar  as  well  as  the  wolf.     I  will  give 


2^6  THE    CHEVALIER   D'AURIAC 

word  of  this  at  the  Arsenal  before  three  hours  are 
over/ 

We  then  went  slowly  towards  the  Toison  d'Or 
in  the  same  order  on  which  we  had  come  up  the 
Rue  St.  Martin,  my  heart  full  of  strange  misgi- 
vings at  Lafin's  presence  in  the  street.  The  sun 
had  already  whitened  the  gables  of  the  houses, 
but  so  narrow  was  the  passage  that  it  seemed  as 
if  it  must  always  be  in  shadow.  There  were  a  few 
people  stirring — one  or  two  street  urchins,  who 
flung  gibes  at  Pantin,  but  gave  me  a  wide  berth ; 
half  a  dozen  women,  in  whose  faces  sin  and  want 
had  set  their  seals,  and  a  man  or  two  of  the  worst 
class.  Beyond  the  high,  dead  wall  which  closed 
in  the  passage  I  could  now  see  the  tops  of  some 
trees,  and  judged  from  this  that  we  were  almost 
upon  the  walls  of  Paris,  and  in  this,  as  it  turned 
out,  I  was  right.  At  last  I  came  opposite  the 
Toison  d'Or.  The  gate  leading  into  the  little 
court  was  shut,  and  so  was  every  window  facing 
the  street.  The  signboard  was  swinging  sadly 
over  the  closed  door,  and  at  the  first  glance  it 
looked  as  if  the  house  was  deserted.  For  a  mo- 
ment the  thought  struck  me  to  knock  boldly  at 
the  door,  and  when  it  was  opened  to  force  my 
way  in  and  trust  to  luck  for  the  rest,  but  I  was 
cooled  on  the  instant  when  I  thought  what  failure 
meant.  I  would  trust  as  little  to  chance  as  pos- 
sible. I  passed  slowly  on,  and  found  that  the 
Toison  d'Or  joined  on  to  another,  but  much 
smaller,  house  which  had  its  bound  set  to  it  by 
the  wall  that  crossed  the  street.     The  sash  of  a 


MAITRE  FAN  TIN  SELLS   CABBAGES        277 

window  on  the  top  story  of  this  house  was  up, 
and  as  I  came  up  to  it  the  front  door  swung  open 
and  a  man  stood  on  the  steps  and  looked  me  full 
in  the  face.  As  my  glance  passed  him,  I  saw  that 
the  door  opened  into  a  room  that  was  used  appa- 
rently as  a  shop  for  all  kinds  of  miscellaneous  arti- 
cles, and  the  man  himself  would  have  stood  well 
for  the  picture  of  a  thieves*  fence,  which,  indeed, 
he  was. 

'A  good  morning,  captain,'  he  said.  '  Will  you 
buy — or  have  you  come  to  sell?'  he  asked,  drop- 
ping his  voice. 

As  he  spoke,  Pantin  came  up  and  began  to  im- 
portune the  man  from  a  safe  distance  to  purchase 
his  wares,  but  beyond  a  curse  had  no  further  at- 
tention paid  to  him,  and  with  a  disappointed  air 
he  went  slowly  back  towards  the  Toison  d'Or.  It 
flashed  upon  me  that  something  had  fallen  my 
way.  '  I  have  come  to  buy  compere,'  I  answered, 
and,  stepping  into  the  shop,  began  to  examine  a 
few  cast-off  doublets,  and  flung  them  aside,  de- 
manding one  on  which  the  gold  lace  was  good. 
A  woman  joined  the  man  at  this  time,  and  whilst 
they  were  rummaging  amongst  their  stores  I 
hastily  ran  over  in  my  mind  the  plan  I  had  formed. 
If  I  could  get  a  lodging  here  I  would  be  in  a  po- 
sition to  watch  who  came  and  went  from  the  house 
and  strike  my  blow  with  deliberation  and  cer- 
tainty. So  at  last  when  the  doublet  was  shown 
to  me,  though  the  price  was  exorbitant  I  paid  it 
without  demur,  and  on  the  man  asking  if  it  should 
be  sent  to  my  lodging,  I  pretended  to  hesitate  for 


278  THE   CHEVALIER  D'AURIAC 

a  moment,  and  then  explaining  that  as  I  had  just 
come  to  Paris,  and  was  in  search  of  a  lodging, 
I  would  take  the  doublet  with  me. 

/  Monsieur  must  have  scaled  the  city  walls  last 
night,  then?'  the  man  said  with  a  sly  look. 

'  Exactly,'  I  answered. 

The  woman,  however,  here  cut  in  and  explained 
that  if  it  was  a  lodging  I  needed  they  could  ac- 
commodate me. 

*  All  the  more  if  you  buy  as  well  as  you  do  now, 
captain,'  said  the  man. 

'  I  will  sell  you  as  cheap  as  you  want  besides,'  I 
answered,  '  but  let  me  see  the  rooms.* 

'  There  is  but  one  room,  monsieur,'  answered 
the  woman,  '  but  it  is  large  and  furnished,'  and 
then  she  led  me  up  the  stairway.  The  room  was 
certainly  large  beyond  the  ordinary,  but '  I  was 
disappointed  beyond  measure  at  finding  that  it 
was  at  the  back  of  the  house  and  would  prevent 
me  from  watching  who  came  in  and  out  of  the 
Toison  d'Or.  I  objected  to  the  situation,  saying 
that  I  wanted  a  room  overlooking  the  street. 

'  There  is  none,'  she  answered  shortly,  *  but  if 
monsieur  desires  to  look  on  the  street  he  may  do 
so  from  the  window  at  the  end  of  this  passage.' 

She  pointed  to  a  narrow  passage  that  led  from 
the  door  of  the  room  to  a  small  hanging  turret, 
and  from  the  arched  windows  of  this  I  saw  that  I 
could  see  all  I  wanted  without  being  seen  myself. 
The  woman  seemed  to  be  of  the  same  kidney  as 
her  husband,  and  drove  a  close  bargain,  and  after 
much  pretended  haggling  1  closed  with  her  terms, 


MAITRE  PAN  TIN  SELLS   CABBAGES        279 

and  arranged  also  for  her  to  bring  me  my  meals, 
explaining  that  for  the  next  week  or  so  I  would 
stay  indoors  as  my  health  was  not  good. 

'  1  understand,  monsieur,'  she  said,  showing  her 
teeth. 

*  Then  it  is  settled,  and  I  will  step  down  and 
bring  up  the  doublet  which  I  left  in  the  shop.* 
With  these  words  I  counted  out  the  rent  and  the 
money  for  my  board,  coin  by  coin,  into  her  hand, 
as  if  each  piece  I  disgorged  was  my  last,  and  then 
stepping  down,  found,  as  I  expected,  Pantin  at 
the  door. 

The  man  was  for  ordering  him  away,  but  his 
wife  insisted  on  making  a  purchase,  in  which  I 
joined,  and  the  fence  going  upstairs  at  that  time, 
we  three  were  left  together.  It  was  all  impor- 
tant to  get  rid  of  the  woman  for  a  moment  or  so, 
and  Pantin,  seeing  this,  sold  his  whole  basket  load 
at  a  price  so  small  that  it  raised  even  her  asto- 
nishment. 

^  I  have  sold  it  for  luck,'  he  said,  *  but  if  ma- 
dame  wishes,  I  will  sell  her  daily  at  the  same  rate.* 

'  Could  you  bring  me  fruit  at  the  same  price  ?' 
I  asked. 

*  Why  not? '  he  answered. 

*  Then  bring  me  some  to-morrow.' 

'  Certainly,  captain.  Where  shall  I  put  these, 
madame?  ' 

But  she  bore  them  away  herself,  and  this  gave 
me  the  opportunity. 

'  Pantin,'  I  said,  '  I  have  taken  a  room  here — you 
understand  ? ' 


28o  THE   CHEVALIER  D'AURIAC 

'  And  1/  he  answered,  '  have  sold  a  cabbage  to 
Babette.  If  you  hear  nothing  more,  meet  me  at 
dusk  in  the  square  behind  St.  Martin's/ 

There  was  no  time  to  say  more,  for  we  heard 
the  fence  coming  back.  Pantin  went  off  down 
the  street,  and  I,  after  a  word  or  two  w^ith  the 
man,  and  an  order  to  his  wife  regarding  my 
meals,  went  slowly  up  to  my  room. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

THE   SKYLIGHT   IN   THE   TOISON   D'OR 

Once  back  in  my  room,  I  flung  off  my  cloak  and 
took  a  survey  of  my  new  quarters.  The  room 
was  long  and  low,  and  situated  in  the  topmost 
story  of  the  house.  In  one  corner  was  a  settle 
covered  with  a  faded  brocade,  whilst  on  the  other 
side  there  was  a  wardrobe  and  a  few  necessaries. 
The  bed  was  placed  at  the  extreme  end  of  the 
room,  and  close  to  the  window  which  overlooked 
the  back  of  the  house,  and  through  which,  from 
where  I  stood,  the  blue  sky  alone  was  visible, 
there  was  a  table  and  a  couple  of  chairs.  Be- 
tween the  table  and  the  bed  intervened  a  clear 
space,  about  ten  feet  by  six,  covered  with  a  coarse 
carpeting.  If  I  am  thus  precise  in  my  descrip- 
tion, I  would  say  I  have  done  so  in  order  to  ex- 
plain clearly  what  follows. 

So  far  things  were  satisfactory  enough,  and  be- 
yond what  I  had  a  right  to  expect  in  such  a 
locality.  The  one  drawback  was  that  I  would  be 
compelled  to  use  the  turret  at  the  end  of  the 
passage  for  my  watch,  and  thus  run  the  risk  of 
being  observed  from  the  other  houses.  In  the 
meantime  I  determined  to  see  exactly  what  could 

281 


282  THE   CHEVALIER  D'AURIAC 

be  effected  from  the  window,  and  pushing  the 
table  aside,  so  as  to  get  a  better  view,  looked  out. 
I  then  saw  that  the  house  I  was  in  as  well  as  the 
Toison  d'Or  were  both  built  against  the  remains 
of  the  old  walls  of  Paris.  Below  me  there  was  a 
sheer  drop  of  fifty  or  sixty  feet,  right  into  the  bed 
of  the  abandoned  fosse,  which  was  covered  by  a 
thick  undergrowth  and  full  of  debris,  A  little  be- 
yond the  fosse  was  a  portion  of  what  was  known 
as  the  new  wall.  This  was  perhaps  in  a  more 
ruinous  condition  than  the  fortification  it  was 
supposed  to  have  replaced.  The  brushwood  grew 
thick  and  high  against  it,  and  I  could  see  the  gap 
where  a  breach  had  been  effected,  probably  du- 
ring the  last  siege,  when  the  Sixteen  and  Madame 
de  Montpensier  held  Paris  against  the  two  kings. 
Beyond  that  stretched  the  open  country,  where, 
had  I  a  mind  to  linger  on  the  view,  I  might  have 
made  out  the  windings  of  the  river,  the  houses  of 
Corneuve,  and  the  woods  of  Dugny  and  Gonesse. 
But  it  was  not  of  these  I  was  thinking,  for  in  that 
survey  I  had  grasped  the  fact  that  de  Gomeron 
could  not  have  chosen  a  spot  better  suited  for  his 
purposes  than  the  Toison  d'Or.  It  was  a  part  of 
Paris  as  secure  as  if  it  had  been  cut  off  from  the 
city  and  set  in  some  unknown  island,  such  as 
those  who  sail  to  the  New  World  describe.  1 
thought  at  first  of  stopping  any  further  concern 
with  the  window,  but  as  I  was  turning  away  1 
looked  rather  particularly  at  the  wall  below  me, 
and  saw  that  a  ledge  ran  along  it  about  three  feet 
below  the  window.     Following  its  track  with  my 


THE  SKYLIGHT  IN   THE    TOISON  DOR    283 

eyes,  I  observed  that  it  was  carried  along  the  face 
of  the  Toison  d'Or,  and  in  doing  this  1  became 
aware  that  there  was  a  window  open  at  the  back 
of  Babette's  house,  and  that  this  was  situated  on 
the  same  level  as  my  room,  but  just  about  the 
middle  instead  of  the  extreme  end,  as  mine  was. 
When  I  considered  the  position  of  this  window, 
and  that  its  look-out  was  on  a  place  where  never 
a  soul  seemed  to  come,  I  could  not  but  think  that 
if  Madame  were  in  the  Toison  d'Or,  that  in  all 
probability  her  room  was  there,  and  I  swore  bit- 
terly to  myself  at  the  thought  of  how  impossible 
it  would  be  to  reach  her.  I  then  craned  out  and 
looked  upwards,  and  saw  that  my  house  was  a 
half-story  lower  than  the  Toison  d'Or,  and  that, 
whilst  the  latter  had  a  high  sloping  roof,  the  por- 
tion of  the  building  in  which  I  was  appeared  to 
be  a  long  and  narrow  terrace  with  a  low  machi- 
colated  parapet  running  along  the  edge.  Thus  if 
there  were  a  door  or  window  in  the  Toison  d'Or 
that  opened  on  to  my  roof,  it  would  be  possible 
to  step  out  thereon  ;  and  then  I  drew  back,  my 
blood  burning.  If  it  was  possible  to  step  out  from 
the  Toison  d'Or  on  to  the  roof  of  the  house  I  oc- 
cupied, it  might  be  equally  easy  to  get  thence 
into  the  Toison  d'Or.  Taking  my  sword,  I  mea- 
sured the  distance  of  the  ledge  from  the  window- 
sill,  and  then,  holding  on  to  the  mullions  by  one 
hand,  stretched  out  as  far  as  I  could,  and  found  I 
could  just  touch  the  top  of  the  parapet  with  the 
point  of  my  blade.  In  short,  the  position  was 
this :  that  so  hard  and  smooth  was  the  outside  of 


284  THE  CHEVALIER  D'AURIAC 

the  wall,  it  was  impossible  for  anything  save  a 
lizard  to  get  along  it  to  the  window  behind  which 
I  supposed  Madame  was  prisoned;  yet  it  was 
feasible,  with  the  aid  of  a  rope  thrown  over  the 
grinning  head  of  the  gargoyle  a  little  above  me, 
or  else  over  the  low  battlement  of  the  parapet,  to 
reach  the  roof,  and  the  odds  were  in  favour  of 
there  being  some  sort  of  a  door  or  window  that 
would  give  ingress  thence  into  the  Toison  d'Or. 
I  began  after  this  to  be  a  little  more  satisfied  with 
my  quarters,  and  determined  to  set  about  my  ex- 
plorations about  the  dinner  hour,  when  most  peo- 
ple would  be  within,  and  the  chance  of  discovery 
reduced  to  a  minimum.  I  did  not  feel  justified  in 
putting  the  matter  off  until  nightfall,  as  I  have 
often  observed  that  there  was  no  time  so  good  as 
the  one  I  had  chosen  for  affairs  which  depended 
much  for  their  results  upon  a  surprise.  I  now 
stepped  out  of  my  room,  and,  walking  along  the 
passage,  looked  out  from  the  little  turret  along 
the  face  of  the  street.  It  was  more  alive  than  I 
had  ever  seen  it  before,  but  the  occupants  were 
principally  women  and  children,  with  a  man  or  so 
here  and  there.  I  saw  that  whilst  the  sunlight 
fell  in  patchwork  and  long  narrow  stretches  on 
the  street,  it  was  bright  enough  where  I  was,  and 
I  perceived  I  had  a  good  excuse  for  spending 
such  time  as  I  intended  to  behind  the  embrasures 
of  the  turret.  And  this  excuse  I  had  to  bring  into 
play  at  once,  for  as  I  stood  there  I  heard  a  foot- 
step on  the  passage,  and,  turning,  observed  the 
woman  of  the  house. 


THE  SKYLIGHT  IN   THE    TO  ISO  N  D'OR    285 

'  I  see/  she  began,  'you  are  already  in  your  tur- 
ret/ 

*  I  like  the  sun,  my  good  woman,  and  have  had 
a  long  journey.' 

Something  in  my  tone  made  her  look  at  me 
oddly,  and  I  began  tc  wish  I  were  well  away  from 
the  keen  scrutiny  of  her  eyes.  She  dropped  the 
tutoyer  and  asked : 

'  If  monsieur  is  tired  he  would  probably  like  his 
dinner  earlier.' 

*  Morbleu  I  The  very  thing,  madame,  and  as 
long  a  bottle  of  Beaugency  as  you  can  get  with  it' 

*  It  shall  be  done,  monsieur,'  and  she  turned  to 
go. 

It  struck  me  as  a  little  odd  that  she  should  have 
come  up  in  this  aimless  manner ;  but  reflecting 
that  perhaps,  after  all,  it  was  due  to  nothing  more 
than  a  desire  to  gratify  feminine  curiosity  by  spy- 
ing what  I  was  about,  I  dismissed  the  matter. 

After  allowing  a  little  time  to  elapse  I  de- 
scended to  the  shop  and  began  carelessly  running 
my  eyes  over  the  miscellaneous  collection  of  arti- 
cles therein.  The  fence  followed  me  about,  now 
recommending  this  thing  and  now  that.  At  last 
I  saw  what  looked  to  be  a  ball  of  rope  lying  in  a 
corner  and  covered  with  dust. 

'  What  is  that  ? '  I  inquired,  touching  it  with 
the  point  of  my  sword. 

The  man  stooped  without  a  word  and,  picking 
it  up,  dusted  it  carefully,  then  he  unrolled  a  lad- 
der of  silken  cord,  about  twelve  or  fifteen  feet  in 
length. 


286  THE   CHEVALIER  D'AURIAC 

*  This,  captain/  he  said,  swinging  it  back- 
wards and  forwards,  '  belonged,  not  so  long  ago, 
to  M.  de  Bellievre,  though  you  may  not  believe 
me.' 

*  I  have  no  doubt  you  are  speaking  the  truth, 
but  it  seems  rather  weak.' 

*  On  the  contrary,  monsieur,  will  you  test  it  and 
see  ?' 

We  managed  to  do  this,  by  means  of  two  hooks 
that  were  slung  from  a  beam  above  us,  in  a  man- 
ner to  satisfy  me  that  the  ladder  was  sufficient  to 
bear  double  my  weight,  and  then,  as  if  content 
with  this,  I  flung  it  aside. 

'  Will  not  monsieur  take  it  ? '  asked  the  man  ; 
*  it  is  cheap.' 

'  It  is  good  enough,'  I  answered,  *  if  I  had  a 
business  on  hand,  but  at  present  I  am  waiting.' 

'  If  monsieur  has  leisure  I  might  be  able  to  give 
him  a  hint  that  would  be  worth  something  in 
crowns.' 

'  I  am  lazy  when  in  luck,  compere.  No,  I  will 
not  take  the  ladder.' 

*  It  may  come  in  useful,  though,  and  will  oc- 
cupy but  a  small  space  in  monsieur's  room' — and 
seeing  that  I  appeared  to  waver — *  shall  1  take  it 
up,  I  will  let  it  go  for  ten  crowns?' 

*  Five  crowns  or  nothing,'  I  said  firmly. 
'  But  it  is  of  the  finest  silk ! ' 

'  I  do  not  want  to  buy — you  can  take  my  price 
or  leave  it.' 

*  Very  well  then,  monsieur,  thanks,  and  I  will 
take  it  up  myself.' 


THE  SKYLIGHT  IN   THE    TOISON  D'OR    287 

'  You  need  not  trouble,  I  am  going  up  and  will 
take  it  with  me.* 

With  these  words  I  took  the  ladder,  folded  in 
long  loops,  in  my  hand  and  went  back  to  the  tur- 
ret. There  I  spent  a  good  hour  or  so  in  re-exa- 
mining it,  and  splicing  one  or  two  parts  that  seemed 
a  trifle  weak,  at  the  same  time  keeping  a  wary 
eye  on  who  passed  and  repassed  the  street,  with- 
out, however,  discovering  anything  to  attract  at- 
tention. Finally,  the  woman  brought  up  my  din- 
ner, and  I  managed  to  eat,  after  a  fashion,  but 
made  more  play  with  the  Beaugency,  which  was 
mild  and  of  a  good  vintage.  When  the  table  was 
cleared,  I  sat  still  for  about  half  an  hour  or  so, 
playing  w^th  my  glass,  and  then  rising,  saw  that 
my  door  was  securely  fastened  in  such  a  manner 
that  no  one  could  effect  an  entrance,  except  by 
bursting  the  lock.  This  being  done  I  removed 
my  boots  and  unslung  my  sword,  keeping  my  pis- 
tols, however,  in  my  belt,  and  after  a  good  look 
round,  to  see  that  no  one  was  observing  me,  ma- 
naged to  loop  the  ladder  round  the  gargoyle,  and 
then  tested  it  once  more  with  a  long  pull.  The 
silk  held  well  enough,  but  the  stonework  of  the 
gargoyle  gave  and  fell  with  a  heavy  crash  into 
the  fosse  below.  It  was  a  narrow  business,  and  it 
was  well  I  had  tried  the  strength  of  the  cord 
again.  I  looked  out  from  the  window  cautiously 
to  see  if  the  noise  had  attracted  any  attention,  and 
found  to  my  satisfaction  that  it  had  not.  After 
allowing  a  little  time  to  elapse,  so  as  to  be  on  the 
safe  side,  I  attempted  to  throw  the  looped  end  I 


288  THE   CHEVALIER  D'AURIAC 

had  made  to  the  ladder  so  that  it  might  fall  over 
the  parapet,  between  two  embrasures,  but  disco- 
vered, after  half  a  dozen  casts,  that  this  was  not 
feasible  from  where  I  stood.  Then  I  bethought 
me  of  my  boyhood*s  training  amongst  the  cliffs 
that  overhung  the  bay  of  Auriac,  and,  stepping 
out  on  to  the  ledge  of  the  window,  managed  with 
an  effort  to  hold  on  to  the  stump  of  the  gargoyle 
w^ith  one  hand,  and,  balancing  myself  carefully, 
for  a  slip  meant  instant  death,  flung  the  loop  once 
more,  and  had  the  satisfaction  of  seeing  it  fall  as  I 
desired.  Without  any  further  hesitation  I  put  my 
foot  on  the  rungs,  and  in  a  minute  more  was  lying 
on  my  face  behind  the  parapet,  and  thanking  God 
I  had  made  the  effort,  for  before  me  was  a  large 
skylight,  half  open,  from  which  I  could  command 
a  view  of  the  interior  of  one  room  at  least  of  the 
Toison  d'Or,  and  by  which  it  might  be  possible 
to  effect  an  easy  entrance.  Before  going  any 
further,  however,  I  glanced  round  me  to  see  how 
the  land  lay,  and  was  delighted  to  find  that  1 
could  not  be  observed  from  the  opposite  side  of 
the  street,  as  the  portion  of  the  house  I  was  on 
was  concealed  from  view  by  the  gabled  roof  that 
rose  about  ten  feet  from  me,  leaving  me  in  a  sort 
of  long  balcony.  Now  that  I  think  of  it,  this  roof 
must  have  been  an  after-thought  on  the  part  of 
the  builders  ;  then  I  was  but  too  thankful  to  find 
it  existed,  and  had  no  time  for  reflections.  By 
turning  my  head  I  could  see,  too,  that  the  high 
wall  that  shut  in  the  mouth  of  the  passage  was 
evidently  raised  as  a  barrier  between  the  street 


THE  SKYLIGHT  IN  THE   TOISON  DOR    289 

and  the  fosse,  which  took  a  bend  and  ran  imme- 
diately below  the  wall.  After  lying  perfectly  still 
for  a  little,  I  slowly  pushed  myself  forwards  un- 
til at  last  I  was  beneath  the  skylight,  and  then, 
raising  myself  cautiously,  peeped  in.  I  saw  a 
room  of  moderate  size,  and  well  but  plainly  fur- 
nished. In  the  centre  was  an  oblong  table  co- 
vered with  a  dark  cloth,  and  round  about  it  were 
set  a  number  of  chairs.  The  skylight  alone  ad- 
mitted light,  and  from  this  to  the  floor  of  the  room 
was  a  matter  of  twelve  feet  or  so.  The  chamber 
was  empty,  and  I  had  more  than  half  a  mind  to* 
risk  the  descent,  when  the  door  was  opened  and 
Babette  stepped  in.  I  shrank  back  as  low  as  pos- 
sible, and  observed  that  she  was  making  arrange- 
ments for  some  one,  for  she  placed  a  couple  of 
decanters  with  glasses  on  the  table,  arranged  the 
chairs,  and  then,  after  taking  a  look  round,  went 
out  once  more.  I  made  up  my  mind  to  wait,  and, 
settling  myself  under  the  skylight,  began  to  exer- 
cise my  patience.  After  an  hour  or  so  had  passed 
I  heard  the  door  opened  again,  and  then  the 
sound  of  voices.  Presently  some  one  called  out, 
'  We  had  better  shut  the  skylight,'  and  then  an- 
other voice,  this  time  Lafin's,  said,  '  No,  it  is  no 
use,  and  we  will  want  light  to  see.' 

Once  more  I  raised  myself  and  leaned  against 
the  edge  of  the  opening,  eyes  and  ears  intent. 
There  were  three  men  in  the  room — Lafin,  de 
Gomeron,  and  another  whom  I  did  not  know,  but 
whom  I  judged  to  be  an  Italian  from  his  manner 
of   pronouncing   our    language.     They   were  all 

19 


290  THE   CHEVALIER  D'AURIAC 

three  seated  round  the  table,  poring  over  a  num- 
ber of  documents  and  conversing  in  low  tones. 
After  a  time  it  appeared  to  me  that  Lafin  was 
urging  something  on  de  Gomeron,  and  the  free- 
lance, who  was  short  of  temper,  brought  his 
clenched  hand  on  the  table  in  a  manner  to  make 
the  glasses  ring,  whilst  he  said  with  an  oath — 

'  I  will  not — 1  have  risked  too  much.  I  have 
told  you  before  that  I  did  not  come  into  this  for 
the  good  of  my  health.  My  prize  is  my  own.  It 
has  nothing  to  do  with  your  affair,  of  which  I  am 
sick.* 

The  other  man  then  cut  in — 

'I  do  not  see,  M.  de  Lafin,  why  we  should  drag 
this  matter  into  our  discussion.  If  M.  de  Gome- 
ron wants  a  wife,  well — many  a  fair  dame  has  had 
a  rougher  wooing  than  the  lady  you  speak  of. 
But  I — I  have  cause  for  complaint.  I  come  here 
expecting  to  meet  the  Marshal — and  I  meet  you 
and  monsieur  here.  I  mean  no  offence,  but  I 
must  tell  you  plainly  my  master*s  instructions  are 
that  I  should  hear  M.  de  Biron's  promises  and 
take  his  demands  from  his  own  lips. 

'  And  what  about  Epernon,  Bouillon,  and  Tre- 
mouille,  count?'  asked  de  Gomeron. 

The  dark  eyes  of  the  stranger  flashed  on  him 
for  a  moment. 

'  My  master,  the  Duke  of  Savoy,  knows  their 
views.' 

'  Personally  ? ' 

The  Italian  waved  his  hand  with  a  laugh. 
'  Gentlemen,  I  have  given  you  my  terms— it  is  for 


THE  SKYLIGHT  IN   THE    TO  ISO N  D'OR    29 1 

you  to  choose.  As  for  my  part,  I  would  that  my 
master  dropped  this  business  and  trusted  the  day 
to  his  sword.' 

'  That  is  not  wont  to  be  M.  de  Savoye's  way,' 
sneered  Lafin,  and  the  Italian  rose. 

'  Very  well,  messieurs.  I  will  then  consider  the 
issue  is  closed.* 

'  It  matters  not  a  rush  to  me,'  exclaimed  de 
Gomeron ;  but  Lafin,  who  was  moodily  plucking 
at  his  moustache,  spoke  again,  and  the  tones  of 
his  voice  were  full  of  chagrin. 

*  As  you  wish — I  undertake  that  the  Marshal 
sees  you.' 

*  Where  and  when  ?     My  time  is  precious.* 

*  Here,  at  ten  o'clock  to-night.' 

*  Maledetto  !  This  is  not  a  place  to  come  at  that 
hour.' 

*  It  is  safe — and  it  would  be  safer  still  if  you 
stayed  here  till  then.  The  spies  of  the  Master- 
General — curse  him — are  everywhere,  and  M.  de 
Gomeron  will  guarantee  your  protection  here.' 

*  I  am  deeply  grateful,'  the  count  bowed  slightly, 
a  faint  tone  of  irony  in  his  voice.  *Then  you 
agree  ? ' 

*  Yes.' 

'  This  being  so,  perhaps  you  had  better  go  over 
these  notes  that  you  may  be  in  a  position  to  exact- 
ly understand  what  we  can  do.  Our  terms  of 
course  are  as  before,  but  we  will  require  money, 
and  that  at  once.' 

*  But  large  advances  have  already  been  made/ 
objected  the  Italian. 


292  THE   CHEVALIER  D'AURIAC 

*  They  are  gone/  said  Lafin. 

*How?  Nothing  has  been  done;  and  both 
Velasco  and  Savoy  are  unwilling  to  throw  more 
money  into  the  business  unless  some  action  is 
taken.     How  has  the  money  gone?* 

*  It  is  gone,  and  there  is  an  end  of  it/  exclaimed 
Lafin  sullenly.  *  As  for  the  action  you  wish  taken 
— you  have  asked  to  see  the  Marshal,  and  he  will 
inform  you.' 

'  Very  well !  Until  then,  monsieur,  we  will  not 
discuss  this  point  further/ 

The  voices  dropped  again  after  this,  and  they 
began  to  pore  over  the  papers  and  a  map  that  the 
free-lance  had  spread  before  him,  making  an  oc- 
casional remark  which  I  did  not  follow.  But  I 
had  heard  enough  to  be  convinced  that  the  plot  of 
Anet  was  still  in  full  life.  It  was  all  important 
for  me  now  to  communicate  what  I  knew  at  once 
to  the  Master-General.  With  a  little  ordinary 
care  the  conspirators  could  be  trapped  to  a  man, 
and  if  by  one  stroke  I  could  effect  this,  as  well  as 
free  Madame,  anything  was  possible.  Without 
further  hesitation  I  therefore  crept  slowly  back, 
and  descended  to  my  chamber  as  softly  as  a  cat. 
Leaving  the  ladder  swinging  where  it  was — for  I 
could  not  undo  the  knot — I  drew  on  my  boots,  and 
went  to  the  turret  to  reconnoitre  before  venturing 
out  into  the  street.  Imagine  my  chagrin  and  disap- 
pointment to  see  that  three  men  were  at  the  gate 
of  the  Toison  d'Or,  evidently  on  the  watch,  and  in 
one  of  them  I  made  out  Ravaillac.  I  might  have 
passed  the  others  without  discovery,  but  it  would 


THE  SKYLIGHT  IN  THE    TO  ISO  N  D'OR    2^1 

be  impossible  to  escape  the  lynx  eyes  of  this  vil- 
lain,  who,  though  young  in  years,  had  all  the  craft 
of  age,  and  who  later  on  was  to  raise  himself  to  an 
eminence  so  bad  that  I  know  not  whom  to  place 
beside  him,  except  perhaps  those  who  were  his 
aiders  and  abettors.  I  did  not  fear  to  run  the 
gauntlet— that  was  an  easy  matter;  but  merely 
doing  so  would  make  my  birds  take  to  wing,  and 
I  found  myself  compelled  once  more  to  hold 
patience  by  the  tail  until  the  coast  was  clear. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

*  PLAIN   HENRI   DE   BOURBON* 

Imagine  what  it  was  to  me,  to  whom  every 
moment  was  worth  its  weight  in  gold,  to  see  the 
group,  and,  above  all,  Ravaillac,  standing  at  the 
door  of  the  Toison  d'Or.  Was  there  ever  such 
cross-grained  luck?  If  I  could  but  pass  down  that 
narrow  street  without  the  hawk's  eye  of  the  Fla- 
gellant falling  on  me  I  might  in  an   hour  do  all 

and  more  than  I  had  ever  hoped  for.     I  could 

But  tonne  dieu  I  What  was  the  use  of  prating 
about  what  might  be.  Through  the  embrasure  of 
the  turret  I  covered  Ravaillac  with  my  pistol,  and 
twice  half  pressed  the  trigger  and  twice  restrained 
myself.  Even  if  he  fell  the  shot  would  ruin  all.  It 
could  not  be  risked,  and  I  thrust  the  long,  black 
barrel  back  into  my  belt  with  a  curse,  and  began  to 
walk  restlessly  to  and  fro  in  the  passage.  It  was 
impossible  for  me  to  keep  still,  my  nerves  were  so 
strung.  In  a  little  I  began  to  cool  and  sought  my 
room,  determined  to  occasionally  take  a  turn  to 
the  turret  and  see  if  the  guard  was  gone,  but  not 
to  harass  myself  by  watching  them  continually. 
In  about  an  hour  or  so  I  wearied  of  sitting  and 
looked  out  of  my  window  again  in  the  direction  of 
Madame*s  room,  as  I  called  it  to  myself.     At  the 

294 


'PLAIN  HENRI  DE  BOURBON'  295 

moment  of  my  doing  so  the  shutter  that  was  open 
towards  my  side  suddenly  closed.  I  could  just 
make  out  a  flash  of  white  fingers  on  the  dark 
woodwork,  and  then  the  face  I  longed  to  see 
looked  out  from  the  half  of  the  window  still  open 
and  drew  back  again  almost  on  the  instant.  Fee- 
ling sure  that  she  would  look  out  once  more,  I 
leaned  forwards.  Madame  did  as  I  expected,  and 
I  could  see  the  astonishment  on  her  face  and  hear 
her  cry  of  joy.  She  tried  to  converse  with  me  by 
signals  on  her  fingers,  and  for  the  first  time  I  had 
occasion  to  bless  what  I  had  up  to  now  considered 
a  foolish  accomplishment  that  I  picked  up  as  a 
boy  when  I  was  with  Monseigneur  de  Joyeuse. 
Enough  that  Madame  made  me  understand  that 
she  was  well  treated,  and  I  let  my  dear  know  that 
there  were  those  at  work  who  would  soon  free 
her,  and  perhaps  there  was  a  word  or  so  besides 
on  a  subject  which  concerned  us  two  alone.  It 
was  in  the  midst  of  this  part  of  our  converse  that 
she  drew  back  all  at  once  with  a  warning  finger 
on  her  lips,  and  though  I  waited  again  for  a  full 
hour,  forgetting  the  watchers  below  in  the  fresh 
fears  that  began  to  assail  me,  I  did  not  see  her 
again.  At  the  end  of  that  time,  however,  a  white 
kerchief  waved  twice  from  the  window  and  was 
then  withdrawn.  I  turned  back  into  my  room, 
and  now  that  I  was  certain  she  was  there  my  im- 
patience at  being  penned  up  as  I  was  became 
almost  insupportable,  and  heaven  alone  knows 
how  I  held  myself  in  from  making  a  dash  for  it 
and  risking  all  on  the  venture.    To  cut  the  matter 


296  THE   CHEVALIER  D'AURIAC 

short,  it  wanted  but  a  few  minutes  to  sundown 
when,  to  my  relief,  I  saw  a  cloaked  figure  I  could 
not  recognise  step  out  of  the  Toison  d*Or,  and, 
after  giving  a  few  orders  to  the  guards,  pass  brisk- 
ly down  the  street.  They  in  their  turn  went  into 
the  house,  and  at  last  the  road  was  clear.  I  hesi- 
tated no  further  and  hurried  down  the  stairs.  At 
the  door  I  was  stopped  by  my  host,  who  inquired 
whither  I  was  hastening. 

*  I  have  just  seen  a  friend,*  I  answered,  and  the 
next  moment  was  in  the  street.  As  I  pressed  for- 
wards 1  had  two  minds  about  keeping  my  ap- 
pointment with  Pantin  in  the  square  behind  St. 
Martin's,  but  as  I  went  on  I  reflected  that  I  had 
to  pass  that  way,  and  as  I  might  need  the  notary's 
aid  1  would  wait  there  a  few  minutes,  and  if  he  did 
not  come,  go  straight  to  de  Belin  with  my  news. 

Although  I  was  not  in  a  frame  of  mind  to  ob- 
serve what  was  going  on  around  me,  I  soon  be- 
came conscious  that  one  of  those  sudden  fogs 
which  extend  over  the  city  at  this  period  of  the 
year  had  arisen,  as  it  were,  out  of  nothing,  and  in 
the  course  of  a  few  minutes  I  was  compelled  to 
slacken  pace  and  pick  my  way  slowly,  and  with 
the  greatest  caution  in  regard  to  landmarks,  for  I 
could  not  risk  losing  my  way  again.  The  fog  was 
not  a  thick  one,  but  it  was  sufficient,  united  with 
the  coming  evening,  to  almost  blur  out  the  streets 
and  houses  and  make  the  figures  of  passers-by 
loom  out  like  large  and  indistinct  shadows.  Care- 
fully as  I  had  tried  to  impress  the  way  on  my 
memory,  I   hesitated  more  than  once  as  to  the 


'PLAIN  HENRI  DE  BOURBON'  297 

route  I  should  take,  and  it  was  with  something 
that  was  like  a  sigh  of  relief  that  I  found  myself  at 
last  behind  St.  Martin's,  whose  spire  towered 
above  me,  a  tall,  grey  phantom.  Here  1  halted  for 
a  moment  to  see  if  one  of  the  few  shadows  that 
flickered  now  and  then  through  the  haze  might 
give  some  signal  by  which  I  might  recognise  Pan- 
tin.  It  was  in  vain,  and,  determining  to  wait  no 
longer,  1  set  off  at  a  round  pace,  when  I  was  sud- 
denly arrested  by  hearing  the  rich  tones  of  a  voice 

singing : 

Frere  Jacques,  dormez-vous  ? 
Dormez-vous,  dormez-vous  ? 

The  clear  notes  rang  out  through  the  fog, 
bringing  with  them  a  hundred  recollections  of 
the  time  when  I  had  last  heard  the  chorus.  And 
the  voice  ?  That  was  not  to  be  mistaken.  It  was 
de  Belin,  or  else  his  ghost.  Without  a  moment's 
hesitation  I  sang  back  the  lines,  advancing  at  the 
same  time  in  the  direction  in  which  I  had  heard 
the  voice.  I  had  not  gone  fifty  paces  when  I  saw 
two  tall  shadows  approaching  me,  and  at  the  same 
time  heard  the  verse  again. 

*  Lisois  !  '  I  called  out. 

'  It  is  he,'  I  heard  de  Belin  say. 

Then  the  shadows  stopped  for  a  moment,  and 
another  and  slighter  figure  joined  them.  Finally, 
one  came  forwards,  and,  when  within  a  yard  or  so 
of  me,  spoke : 

'  D'Auriac,  is  it  you?' 

'Yes.  I  was  hastening  to  you.  Man,  I  have 
discovered  all ! ' 


298  THE   CHEVALIER  D'AURIAC 

'  Morbleu  !  '  exclaimed  the  Compte  ;  'the  chan- 
son was  a  happy  thought,  else  we  had  missed  you 
in  this  fog/ 

'  Is  Pantin  here  ?  We  have  not  a  moment  to 
lose/ 

'  He  is.  It  was  he  who  guided  us  here.  I  have 
brought  a  friend  with  me.  Do  not  ask  his  name  ; 
but  speak  freely  before  him,  and  tell  us  exactly 
what  you  have  discovered.' 

With  these  words  he  took  me  by  the  arm  and 
led  me  up  to  the  two.  In  the  shorter  there  was 
no  difficulty  in  recognising  Pantin.  What  with 
the  mist,  the  mask  on  his  face,  and  the  roquelaure 
that  enveloped  him  to  the  ears,  I  could  make  out 
nothing  of  the  stranger,  who  did  not  even  answer 
my  salutation  except  by  a  slight  inclination  of  his 
head.  I 'need  not  say  I  wasted  no  time,  but  laid 
the  matter  before  them,  and  wound  up  with  : 

'  And  now,  gentlemen,  we  are  three  swords ; 
let  Pantin  hasten  and  bring  half  a  dozen  of  the 
Compte's  people,  and  I  guarantee  that  we  not 
only  free  Madame,  but  take  the  whole  brood  of 
vipers.* 

'  These  cards  won't  win,*  said  de  Belin.  '  We 
must  have  more  witnesses  than  ourselves,  who  are 
known  to  be  enemies  of  the  Marshal.  The  King 
plays  at  More's  this  evening.  He  is  like  to  be 
there  now,  or  else  very  soon,  for  he  is  bound  on 
a  frolic  to-night.  We  will  go  straight  there. 
Villeroi  and  Sully  are  both  to  be  in  attendance, 
and  also  the  Marshal.* 

'  The  Marshal  will  not  be  there,*  I  interrupted. 


'PLAIN  HENRI  DE  BOURBON'  299 

*  If  SO  I  wager  the  King  asks  for  him,  and  I  will 
take  it  on  my  head  to  explain.  In  half  an  hour 
we  could  be  back  with  Sully  and  Villeroi,  and 
then  the  game  is  ours.  Do  you  not  agree,  mon- 
seigneur?'  and  he  turned  to  the  stranger.  All 
the  answer  was  another  grave  inclination  of  the 
head. 

'  Come,'  went  on  de  Belin,  slipping  his  arm  into 
mine.  ^  Put  yourself  in  my  hands,  d'Auriac,  and  I 
pledge  you  success.  My  God ! '  he  broke  off 
suddenly,  *  to  think  we  should  win  so  completely.* 

There  was  so  much  in  what  he  said  that  I 
agreed  without  demur,  and  Belin  hurried  me 
onwards,  the  stranger  and  Pantin  following  a 
few  steps  behind.  As  we  went  on  Belin  whi- 
spered : 

'  Ask  no  questions,  d*Auriac ;  say  nothing  until 
you  see  Sully,  and  ten  minutes  after  I  promise 
you  twenty  swords.' 

*  If  I  do  not  get  them  in  an  hour,*  I  said  grimly, 
'  I  will  go  back  myself  and  trj^  what  my  own 
sword  can  do.' 

'  And  I  will  go  back  with  you,  too — there,  is 
that  not  enough?  Come,  man!*  and  we  hurried 
along  through  the  mist  as  fast  as  we  could  walk, 
keeping  on  the  left  side  of  the  road. 

As  we  came  up  to  St.  Merri,  de  Belin  stopped 
and  blew  sharply  on  a  whistle.  There  was  an 
answering  call,  and  from  under  the  Flamboyant 
portico  of  the  church  the  figure  of  a  man,  with  a 
led  horse,  slipped  out  into  the  fog,  now  yellow 
with  the  light  of  the  street  lamps.     Without   a 


300  THE   CHEVALIER  D'AURIAC 

word  the  stranger  mounted,  and  the  two  passed 
us  at  a  trot. 

*  What  the  devil  does  that  mean  !  *  I  exclaimed. 
*  Your  Monseigneur  has  left  us  ! ' 

*  To  return  again/  answered  the  Compte  drily. 
And  then  added,  '  It  will  be  a  gay  party  at  More's 
to-night,  and  it  is  time  we  were  there.' 

I  made  no  answer,  but,  as  we  went  on,  could 
not  help  feeling  uneasy  in  my  mind  at  the  thought 
of  being  recognised  at  Morels ;  for  after  what  de 
Belin  had  said  of  the  King*s  temper  towards  me, 
I  made  sure  that  I  would  have  scant  mercy  were 
I  once  arrested.  And  again,  I  would  say  that  it 
was  not  for  myself  I  was  in  dread,  but  for  the 
probable  consequence  to  Madame  did  any  harm 
happen  to  me  at  this  juncture. 

But  1  had  put  my  foot  in  the  stirrup,  and  was 
bound  to  ride  now  ;  and  then  there  was  de  Belin's 
word.  At  last  we  reached  More's,  and  as  we  en- 
tered the  hall  I  could  not  help  wondering  if  the 
good  Parisians  knew  that  their  King  was  playing 
at  primero  in  an  ordinary  of  the  city,  and  would 
be  later  on,  perhaps,  pursued  by  the  watch.  More, 
whom  I  had  not  seen  since  my  affair  with  d' Ayen, 
was  in  the  hall,  and  at  a  word  from  de  Belin  con- 
ducted us  himself  up  the  stairway,  though  looking 
askance  at  me.  We  at  length  gained  a  long 
corridor,  at  the  beginning  of  which  Pantin  was 
left.  We  stopped  before  the  closed  doors  of  a 
private  dining-room  from  within  which  we  could 
hear  shouts  of  laughter. 

'  His  Majesty  and  M.  de  Vitry  arrived  scarce  a 


'PLAIN  HENRI  DE  BOURBON'  3OI 

half-hour  ago/  whispered  More  as  we  approached 
the  door. 

*  We  will  not  trouble  you  further,'  replied  the 
Compte ;  '  it  is  the  rule  at  these  little  parties  to 
enter  unannounced/ 

With  these  words  he  put  his  hand  to  the  door 
and  went  in,  I  following  at  his  heels.  There  were 
at  least  ten  or  a  dozen  men  in  the  room  standing 
round  a  table,  at  which  sat  the  King  engaged  at 
play  with  M.  de  Bassompierre.  Neither  the  King 
nor  Bassompierre,  who  seemed  absorbed  in  the 
game,  took  the  least  notice  of  our  entrance,  nor 
did  they  seem  in  the  least  disturbed  by  the  con- 
stant laughter  and  converse  that  went  on.  The 
others,  however,  stopped,  and  then  burst  out  in 
joyous  greetings  of  de  Belin  and  very  haughty 
glances  at  me.  M.  le  Grand,  indeed,  bent  forward 
from  his  great  height,  and  whispered  audibly  to 
the  Compte: 

'  What  scarecrow  have  you  brought  here,  de 
Belin  ! ' 

*  Our  captain  for  to-night,  due — see,  there  is  the 
Grand-Master  looking  as  if  each  crown  the  King 
loses  was  the  last  drop  of  blood  in  the  veins  of 
B6thune.'  And  as  he  said  this,  Sully  and  he 
glanced  at  each  other,  and  a  light,  like  that  in  an 
opal,  flamed  in  the  great  minister's  eyes. 

M.  le  Grand,  however,  seemed  to  be  inclined  for 
converse  with  me,  and,  stepping  up,  asked,  *  And 
where  do  you  lead  us  to-night,  monsieur?  ' 

I  was  about  to  make  some  answer  when  de 
Vitry  interposed,  *  My  dear  due,  there  is  plenty 


302  THE   CHEVALIER  D'AURIAC 

of  time  to  ask  that.  I  wager  you  fifty  pistoles 
that  d'Ayen  there  throws  higher  than  you  five 
times  out  of  six/' 

*  Done,*  replied  Bellegarde — and  then  those 
who  were  not  round  the  King  and  Bassompierre, 
gathered  to  watch  Bellegarde  and  d'Ayen,  whose 
cheeks  were  flushed  with  excitement  as  he  threw 
with  his  left  hand,  the  right  being  still  in  a  sling. 

In  the  meantime  the  King  played  on,  taking  no 
notice  of  anyone,  his  beaked  nose  dropping  lower 
towards  his  chin  as  he  lost  one  rouleau  after 
another  to  Bassompierre. 

'  Ventre  St,  Gris  !  '  he  exclaimed  at  last,  *  was 
ever  such  luck  ;  at  this  rate  I  shall  not  have  a  shirt 
to  my  back  in  half  an  hour.* 

*'If  the  Marshal  were  only  here,*  said  Sully,  *we 
could  start  off  at  once.  Sire,  instead  of  risking  any 
more.     I  see  de  Belin  has  brought  our  guide.* 

'  Yes  ;  where  is  Biron  ?  I  am  sick  of  this ;  *  and 
the  King,  who  was  a  bad  loser,  rose  from  his  seat 
impatiently,  at  the  same  time  forgetting  to  hand 
over  the  last  rouleau  of  pistoles  he  had  lost  to 
Bassompierre,  and  thrusting  them  back  into  his 
pocket  with  an  absent  gesture. 

As  if  in  answer  to  his  question  the  door  opened, 
admitting  the  slight  figure  and  handsome  face  of 
de  Gie. 

'Where  is  the  Marshal?  Where  is  Biron?' 
asked  ten  voices  in  a  breath. 

'  Yes,  M.  de  Gie,*  put  in  the  King ;  *  where  is 
Biron?' 

*  Sire,  the  Marshal  is  indisposed.    He  has  begged 


'PLAIN  HENRI  DE  BOURBON'  303 

ine  to  present  his  excuses  and  to  say  he  is  too  ill 
to  come  to-night ;  *  and  as  he  spoke  I  sawde  Gie*s 
jewelled  fingers  trembling,  and  his  cheek  had  lost 
all  colour. 

*  This  is  sorry  news  to  spoil  a  gay  evening,*  said 
the  King  ;  and  the  Master-General,  pulling  a  com- 
fit box  from  his  vest  pocket,  toyed  with  it  in  his 
hand  as  he  followed,  '  Biron  must  be  ill,  indeed,  to 
stay  away.  Sire.  What  does  your  Majesty  think? 
Shall  we  begin  our  rambles  by  calling  on  Mon- 
seigneur? ' 

*The  very  thing,  Grand-Master;  we  will  start 
at  once.* 

'  But,  Sire,  the  Marshal  is  too  ill  to  see  anyone- 
even  your  Majesty,*  said  de  Gie  desperately,  and 
with  whitening  lips. 

I  thought  I  heard  de  Vitry  mutter  '  Traitor ' 
under  his  thick  moustache,  but  the  Guardsman 
parried  my  glance  with  an  unconcerned  look. 
There  was  a  silence  of  a  half-minute  at  de  Gie*s 
speech,  and  the  King  reddened  to  the  forehead. 

'  If  it  is  as  you  say,  M.  le  Vicompte,  I  know  the 
Marshal  too  well  not  to  feel  sure  that  there  are 
two  persons  whom  he  would  see  were  he  dying — 
which  God  forbid — and  one  of  these  two  is  his 
King.  Grand-Master,  we  will  go,  but  * — and  his 
voice  took  a  tone  of  sharp  command,  and  his  eyes 
rested  first  on  de  Gie,  and  then  on  the  figure  of 
a  tall  cavalier,  at  whose  throat  flashed  the  jewel 
of  the  St.  Esprit — '  but  I  must  first  ask  M.  de 
Vitry  to  do  his  duty.* 

As  for  me  I  was  dumb  with  astonishment,  and 


304  THE  CHEVALIER  D'AURIAC 

half  the  faces  around  me  were  filled  with  amaze. 
Then  de  Vitr\^'s  voice  broke  the  stillness  : 

'  My  lord  of  Epernon,  your  sword — and  you 
too,  M.  le  Vicompte.' 

The  duke  slipped  off  his  rapier  with  a  sarcastic 
smile  and  handed  the  weapon  to  the  Captain  of 
the  Guard  ;  but  we  could  hear  the  clicking  of  the 
buckles  as  de  Gie's  trembling  fingers  tried  in  vain 
to  unclasp  his  belt.  So  agitated  was  he  that  de 
Vitry  had  to  assist  him  in  his  task  before  it  was 
accomplished. 

The  King  spoke  again  in  the  same  grating 
tones  :  ^mm\  . 

*  M.  de  Bassompierre  and  you,  de  Luynes,  I 
leave  the  prisoners  in  your  charge.  In  the  mean- 
time, messieurs,  we  will  slightly  change  our 
plans.  I  shall  not  go  myself  to  the  MarshaFs 
house;  but  I  depute  you,  Grand -Master,  and 
these  gentlemen  here,  all  except  de  Vitry,  who 
comes  with  me,  to  repair  there  in  my  name. 
Should  M.  de  Biron  not  be  able  to  see  you, 
you  will  come  to  me — the  Grand-Master  knows 
where.' 

'  You  will  be  careful,  Sire,'  said  Sully. 

*  Mordieu  !     Yes — go,  gentlemen.' 

1  was  about  to  follow  the  others,  but  Belin 
caught  me  by  the  arm  as  he  passed  out.  ^  Stay 
where  you  are,'  he  whispered,  and  then  we  waited 
until  the  footsteps  died  away  along  the  corridor, 
the  King  standing  with  his  brows  bent  and  mut- 
tering to  himself : 

'  If  it  were  not  true — if  it  were  not  true.* 


'PLAIN  HENRI  DE  BOURBON'  30S 

Suddenly  he  roused  himself.  '  Come,  de  Vitry 
— my  mask  and  cloak ;  and  you,  too,  sir,'  he  said, 
turning  on  me  with  a  harsh  glance.  He  put  on 
his  mask,  drew  the  collar  of  his  roquelaure  up  to 
his  ears,  and  in  a  moment  I  recognised  the  silent 
stranger  who  had  ridden  off  so  abruptly  from 
under  the  portico  of  St.  Merri.  I  could  not  re- 
press my  start  of  surprise,  and  I  thought  I  caught 
a  strange  glance  in  de  Vitry's  eyes ;  but  the 
King's  face  was  impassive  as  stone. 

*  We  go  out  by  the  private  stair,  Sire  ;  d'Au- 
busson  is  there  with  the  horses.'  With  these 
words  he  lifted  the  tapestry  of  the  wall  and 
touched.iif  door.  It  swung  back  of  its  own  accord, 
and  the  King  stepped  forward,  the  Captain  of  the 
Guard  and  myself  on  his  heels.  When  we  gained 
the  little  street  at  the  back  of  More's,  we  saw 
there  three  mounted  men  with  three  led  horses. 

De  Vitry  adjusted  the  King's  stirrup,  who 
sprang  into  the  saddle  in  silence,  and  then,  mo- 
tioning me  to  do  likewise,  mounted  himself. 

*  Monsieur,'  said  the  King  to  me,  reining  in  his 
restive  horse,  *  you  will  lead  us  straight  to  your 
lodging,  next  to  the  Toison  d'Or.' 

*  Sire,'  I  made  answer,  *  but  it  will  be  necessary 
to  leave  the  horses  by  St.  Martin's,  as  their  pres- 
ence near  the  Toison  d'Or  might  arouse  curiOvSity 
and  suspicion.' 

*  I  understand,  monsieur;  have  the  goodness  to 
lead  on.' 

I  rode  at  the  head  of  the  small  troop,  nosing 
my   way  through  the  fog  with  my  mind  full  of 


306  THE   CHEVALIER  D'AURIAC 

feelings  it  was  impossible  to  describe,  but  with 
my  heart  beating  with  joy.  Neither  d'Aubusson 
nor  de  Vitry  gave  a  sign  that  they  knew  me,  and, 
but  for  an  occasional  direction  that  I  gave  to 
turn  to  the  right  or  left,  we  rode  in  silence 
through  the  mist,  now  beginning  to  clear,  and 
through  which  the  moon  shone  with  the  light  of 
a  faint  night  lamp  behind  lace  curtains.  At  St. 
Martin's  we  dismounted.  There  was  a  whispered 
word  between  the  lieutenant  and  de  Vitry,  and 
then  the  King,  de  Vitry,  and  myself  pressed  for- 
wards on  foot,  leaving  d'Aubusson  and  the  troop- 
ers with  the  horses.  It  would  take  too  long,  if 
indeed  I  have  the  power,  to  describe  the  tumult 
in  my  mind  as  we  wound  in  and  out  of  the  cross 
streets  and  bye  lanes  towards  the  Toison  d'Or. 
At  last  we  came  to  the  jaws  of  the  blind  passage, 
and  I  whispered  to  de  Vitry  that  we  were  there. 
Henry  turned  to  de  Vitry  and  asked : 

*Are  you  sure  the  signals  are  understood,  de 
Vitry?' 

'  Yes,  Sire.' 

There  was  no  other  word  spoken,  and  keeping 
on  the  off  side  of  the  road,  to  avoid  passing  im- 
mediately before  the  door  of  the  Toison  d'Or, 
where  it  was  possible  a  guard  might  be  set,  we 
went  onward  towards  my  lodging.  Favoured  by 
the  mist,  which  still  hung  over  the  passage,  we 
got  through  without  accident;  but  I  perceived 
that  not  a  light  glimmered  from  the  face  of  Bab- 
ette's  house,  though  I  could  hear  the  bolts  of  the 
entrance-door  being  drawn,  as  if  some  one  had 


'PLAIN  HENRI  DE  BOURBON'  307 

entered  a  moment  or  so  before  we  came  up.  My 
own  lodging  was,  however,  different,  and  through 
the  glaze  of  the  window  we  could  see  the  sickly 
glare  of  the  light  in  the  shop,  where  Monsieur 
and  Madame  were  no  doubt  discussing  the  busi- 
ness of  the  day. 

'  We  must  quiet  my  landlord  and  his  wife/  I 
whispered  to  Vitry  as  we  came  up  to  the  door, 

'  Very  well,'  he  said,  and  then  I  knocked. 

The  fence,  who  was  alone,  himself  opened  the 
door.  '  Ah,  captain,'  he  exclaimed,  *  we  thought 
you  were  lost;  but  I  see  you  have  friends.*  He 
said  no  more,  for  I  seized  his  throat  with  a  grip 
of  iron,  whilst  de  Vitry  laced  him  up  with  his  own 
belt.  An  improvised  gag  put  a  stop  to  all  outcry, 
and  in  a  thrice  he  was  lying  like  a  log  amongst  his 
own  stolen  wares. 

*  Madame  is  doubtless  in  bed,'  I  said  to  him,  and 
a  sharp  scream  interrupted  my  words,  for  the 
woman,  doubtless  hearing  the  scuffle,  had  rushed 
into  the  room.  M.  de  Vitry  was,  however,  equal 
to  the  occasion,  and  she,  too,  was  deposited  beside 
her  husband. 

The  King,  who  had  taken  no  part  in  these  pro- 
ceedings, now  said : 

'  I  trust  that  woman's  cry  will  not  raise  an 
alarm —  Ventre  St,  Gris  if  it  does !  * 

'  Have  no  fear.  Sire,'  I  said  in  a  low  tone ;  '  the 
cries  of  women  in  this  part  of  your  capital  are  too 
frequent  to  attract  the  least  notice.  They  will 
but  think  that  there  has  been  a  little  conjugal 
difference.' 


308  THE   CHEVALIER  D'AURIAC 

*  So  far,  so  good.  De  Vitry,  you  will  stay  here. 
At  the  first  sound  of  the  Grand-Master's  whistle 
you  will  answer  it,  and  they  will  know  what  to  do. 
I  have  something  to  say  to  M.  d'Auriac.  Take 
me  to  your  room,  sir.* 

I  bowed,  and,  lighting  a  taper  that  stood  in  a 
holder  of  moulded  brass — a  prize  that  had  doubt- 
less come  to  my  landlord  through  one  of  his  cli- 
ents— led  the  way  up  the  rickety  stairs,  and  stop- 
ping at  the  door  of  my  chamber,  opened  it  to  let 
the  King  pass.  For  an  instant  he  hesitated,  fixing 
his  keen  and  searching  eyes  on  me — eyes  that 
flashed  and  sparkled  beneath  the  mask  that  cov- 
ered half  his  features,  and  then  spoke  : 

'  M.  d'Auriac,  are  you  still  an  enemy  of  your 
King?' 

I  could  make  no  answer ;  I  did  not  know  what 
to  say,  and  stood,  candle  in  hand,  in  silence.  Then 
Henry  laughed  shortly  and  stepped  into  the  room. 
I  shut  the  door  as  I  followed,  and  turned  up  the 
lamp  on  my  table.     Then,  facing  the  King,  I  said, 

*  Sire,  I  await  your  orders.' 

He  had  flung  off  his  cloak  and  mask,  and  was 
leaning  against  the  wardrobe,  one  hand  on  the  hilt 
of  his  sword,  and  at  my  words  he  spoke  slowly : 

*  I  desire  to  see  this  room  in  the  Toison  d'Or,  and 
to  look  upon  the  assembly  that  has  met  there  with 
my  own  eyes.' 

'Now,  Sire?' 

*  Yes,  now.' 

*  Your  Majesty,  it  is  not  now  possible!' 

*  Ventre  St,  Gris  I — not  possible  ! ' 


'PLAIN  HENRI  DE  BOURBON'  309 

'  Permit  me,  Sire — the  only  way  is  by  this  win- 
dow. If  your  Majesty  will  step  here,  you  will  see 
the  risk  of  it.  I  will  go  and  see  if  they  have  met ; 
but  I  conjure  you  not  to  make  the  attempt.  The 
slightest  accident  would  be  fatal.' 

*  Do  you  think  I  have  never  scaled  a  rock  be- 
fore ?  '  he  said,  craning  out  of  the  window.  *  Am 
I  a  child,  M.  d^Auriac,  or  mille  tonnerres  !  because 
my  beard  is  grey,  am  I  in  my  dotage?  I  will  go, 
sir,  and  thank  God  that  for  this'  moment  I  can 
drop  the  King  and  be  a  simple  knight.  You  can 
stay  behind,  monsieur,  if  you  like.  1  go  to  test 
the  truth  of  your  words.* 

*  Your  Majesty  might  save  yourself  the  trouble. 
I  again  entreat  you ;  your  life  belongs  to  France.' 

'  I  know  that,'  he  interrupted  haughtily.  *  No 
more  prating,  please.  Will  you  go  first,  or  shall 
I  ? '  ,^ 

There  was  ho  answer  to  this.  It  flashed  on  me 
to  call  to  de  Vitry  for  aid  to  stop  the  King,  but 
one  look  at  those  resolute  features  before  me  con- 
vinced me  that  such  a  course  would  be  useless. 
I  lowered  the  light,  and  then  testing  the  ends  of 
the  ladder  again  and  again,  made  the  ascent  as 
before.  Leaning  through  the  embrasure,  I  saw 
the  dark  figure  of  the  King  already  holding  on  to 
the  ladder,  and  he  followed  me,  as  agile  as  a  cat. 
Making  a  long  arm,  I  seized  him  by  the  shoulder, 
and  with  this  assistance  he  clambered  noiselessly 
over  the  parapet  and  lay  beside  me. 

*  Cahors  over  again/  he  whispered  ;  *  and  that  is 
the  skylight.     They  burn  bright  lamps.' 


3 TO  THE   CHEVALIER  D'AURIAC 

*  The  easier  for  us  to  see,  Sire.  Creep  forward 
softly  and  look.* 

One  by  one  we  stole  up  to  the  skylight,  and  the 
King,  raising  himself,  glanced  in,  my  eyes  follow- 
ing over  his  shoulders.  For  full  five  minutes 
we  were  there,  hearing  every  word,  seeing  every 
soul,  and  then  the  King  bent  down  softly,  and, 
laying  a  hand  on  my  shoulder,  motioned  me  back. 
It  was  not  until  we  reached  the  parapet  that 
he  said  anything,  and  it  was  as  if  he  were  mutter- 
ing a  prayer  to  himself. 

When  we  got  back  I  helped  him  to  dress.  He 
did  not,  however,  resume  his  roquelaure  or  hat, 
but  stood  playing  with  the  hilt  of  his  sword,  let- 
ting his  eye  run  backward  and  forward  over  the 
vacant  space  in  my  room.  At  last  he  turned  to 
me: 

'  Monsieur,  you  have  not  answered  the  question 
I  put  you  a  moment  before.* 

*  Sire,*  I  answered  boldly,  *  is  it  my  fault  ?  * 

He  began  to  pull  at  his  moustache,  keeping  his 
eyes  to  the  ground  and  saying  to  himself,  '  Sully 
will,  not  be  here  for  a  little ;  there  is  time.' 
As  for  me,  I  took  my  courage  in  both  hands  and 
waited.  So  a  half-minute  must  have  passed  be- 
fore he  spoke  again. 

*  Monsieur,  if  a  gentleman  has  wronged  an- 
other, there  is  only  one  course  open.  There  is 
room  enough  here — take  your  sword  and  your 
place.* 

*  I— I /  I  stammered.    '  Your  Majesty,  I  do 

not  understand.* 


'PLAIN  HENRI  DE  BOURBON'  31I 

'  I  never  heard  that  monsieur  le  chevalier  was 
dense  in  these  matters.  Come,  sir,  time  presses 
— your  place.' 

'  May  my  hand  wither  if  I  do,*  I  burst  out  '  I 
will  never  stand  so  before  the  Kjng.* 

^  Not  before  the  King,  monsieur,  but  before  a 
man  who  considers  himself  a  little  wronged,  too. 
What !  is  d'Auriac  so  high  that  he  cannot  stoop 
to  cross  a  blade  with  plain  Henri  de  Bourbon?' 

And  then  it  was  as  if  God  Himself  took  the 
scales  from  my  eyes,  and  I  fell  on  my  knees  be- 
fore my  King. 

He  raised  me  gently.  *  Monsieur,  I  thank  you. 
Had  I  for  one  moment  led  a  soul  to  suspect  that 
I  believed  in  you  from  the  first,  this  nest  of  trait- 
ors had  never  been  found.  St.  Gris — even  Sully 
was  blinded.  So  far  so  good.  It  is  much  for  a 
King  to  have  gained  a  friend,  and  hark!  if  I  am 
not  mistaken,  here  is  de  Vitry/ 


CHAPTER   XX 

AT  THE  SIGN  OF  *  THE  TOISON  D'OR  * 

Turning,  we  beheld  de  Vitry  at  the  open  door, 
the  small  and  narrow  figure  of  Pantin  at  his  el- 
bow, and,  close  behind,  the  stern  features  of  the 
Grand-Master,  the  anxiety  on  whose  face  cleared 
as  he  saw  the  King  before  him.  He  was  about 
to  speak,  but  Henry  burst  in  rapidly  : 

*  I  know  all,  my  lord.  It  is  time  to  act,  not 
talk.  Arnidieu  !  But  I  shall  long  remember  this 
frolic  ! ' 

'  It  would  seem  that  God  has  given  us  a  great 
deliverance.  Sire.  All  is  ready.  I  came  but  to 
see  that  your  Majesty  was  safe  and  unharmed, 
and  to  leave  Du  Praslin  with  a  sufficient  guard 
for  your  person  whilst  we  took  our  prisoners.* 

As  Sully  spoke  the  King  threw  his  roquelaure 
over  his  arm  and  answered  coldly,  '  Monsieur, 
you  are  very  good.  When  I  want  a  guard  I  shall 
ask  for  one.  I  have  yet  to  learn  that  Henri  de 
Bourbon  is  to  lurk  in  a  corner  whilst  blows  are 
going,  and  I  shall  lead  the  assault  myself ! ' 

*  And  the  first  shot  from  a  window,  fired  by 
some  croquevtort,  might  leave  France  at  the  feet  of 
Spain,  I  cut  in  bluntly,  whilst  de  Vitry  stamped 
his  foot  with   vexation,  and  the  forehead  of  the 

312 


AT  THE  SIGN  OF  'THE   TO/SON  D'OR'    313 

Grand-Master  wrinkled  and  furrowed,  though  he 
gave  me  an  approving  look  from  under  his  shaggy 
brows. 

For  a  moment  it  was  as  if  my  words  would 
have  stayed  the  King.  He  looked  at  me  fixedly 
and  stabbed  at  the  carpet  with  the  point  of  his 
blade,  repeating  to  himself,  *  At  the  feet  of  Spain 
— Spain  !  Never!'  he  added,  recovering  himself 
and  looking  highly  around.  '  Never  !  Messieurs, 
we  shall  all  yet  see  the  lilies  flaunting  over  the 
Escorial.' 

*  Amen  !  *  exclaimed  a  voice  from  the  darkness 
of  the  stairway,  and  I  heard  the  grinding  of  a 
spurred  heel  on  the  woodwork  of  the  floor. 

'  Come,'  said  the  King,  'we  have  no  time  to  lose, 
and  if  we  delay  longer  that  hot-head  de  Belin, 
will  strike  the  first  blow.' 

*  With  your  Majesty's  permission,  I  will  make 
an  assault  on  the  rear,'  I  said. 

'  On  the  rear ! '  exclaimed  de  Vitry,  whilst  the 
Grand-Master  said,  '  It  is  impossible  ! ' 

But  I  only  pointed  to  the  window,  and  Henry 
laughed. 

'  Ventrebleu  I  I  understand — a  great  idea !  But, 
monsieur,  take  care  how  you  give  away  a  secret. 
I  shall  have  no  peace  if  Monseigneur  the  Grand- 
Master  hears  what  has  happened.' 

I  was  young  enough  still  to  feel  my  face  grow 
hot  at  the  approval  in  the  King's  voice,  and  then, 
without  another  word,  they  passed  out,  trampy 
tra7np,  down  the  stairs,  all  except  Sully,  who 
stayed  behind  for  a  moment. 


314  THE   CHEVALIER  D'AURIAC 

'  Monsieur,'  he  asked,  '  what  has  happened  be= 
tween  you  and  the  King  ?  * 

'  His  Majesty  has  pardoned  me/ 

*  A  child  might  see  that.  What  else  ?  Be  quick  !  * 

*  And  has  given  me  orders  to  meet  you  as  you 
enter  the  Toison  d'Or.' 

The  frown  on  his  face  cleared.  '  Well  answered, 
chevalier.  The  King,  I  see,  has  won  a  faithful 
and  discreet  friend.  Make  your  attack  when  you 
hear  the  petard.'  Then  he,  too,  turned  his  broad 
shoulders  on  me  and  followed  the  rest. 

As  the  sound  of  the  heavy  footfalls  ceased  I  gave 
a  last  look  at  my  pistols,  drew  in  my  sword-belt 
by  a  hole,  and,  all  booted  as  I  was,  essayed  the 
ladder  again.  The  practice  I  had  with  it  made 
the  ascent  easy  now,  and  perhaps  it  was  this  that 
rendered  me  careless,  for,  as  I  was  climbing,  my 
foot  slipped  with  a  grating  noise,  and  as  I  stopped 
for  a  moment,  with  one  leg  over  the  parapet  and 
the  other  trailing  over  the  drop  behind,  I  heard  a 
quick  '  What  is  that  ? '  through  the  open  skylight. 
The  voice  was  the  Marshal's,  and  I  almost  felt 
that  I  could  see  his  nervous  start  and  rapid  up- 
ward glance  as  the  scrabbling  noise  reached  his 
ears.  Then  came  Lafin's  answer,  in  those  cool 
tones  that  can  penetrate  so  far : 

'  A  cat — only  a  cat,  monseigneur !  * 

All  was  still  again,  and  I  crept  softly  to  the 
opening.  I  did  not  dare  look  in,  but  crouched 
beneath  the  skylight,  waiting  for  the  signal.  I  had 
already  observed  that  the  skylight  was  but  a  light, 
wooden  framework,  with  a  glazing  between,  and 


AT   THE  SIGN  OF  '  THE   TOISON  D'OR'    315 

would  need  no  great  effort  to  break  down — one 
strong  push  and  the  way  was  clear  before  me.  So 
I  stayed  for  a  minute  of  breathless  silence,  then 
from  far  below  came  a  sharp,  shrill  whistle,  hur- 
ried exclamations  from  the  plotters,  and  now  the 
explosion  of  the  petard,  that  made  the  house  rock 
to  and  fro  like  a  tree  in  the  wind. 

I  had  no  need  to  force  open  the  skylight.  The 
effect  of  the  explosion  did  that  most  effectually 
for  me  and  blew  out  the  lamps  in  the  room  below  as 
well,  reducing  it  on  a  sudden  to  absolute  darkness. 
There  was  a  yell  of  terror  from  the  room,  and, 
without  a  moment's  hesitation,  I  swung  through 
the  window  and  dropped  down  amongst  the  con- 
spirators. They  were  to  a  man  crowding  to  the 
door,  and  not  one  took  any  note  of  my  entrance, 
so  great  was  their  confusion.  I  followed  the  rush 
of  hurrying  figures  as  they  passed  through  the 
door  into  a  passage  in  dim  light  from  a  fire  that 
burned  in  a  small  grate.  One  end  of  this  passage 
was  full  of  smoke,  against  which  the  bright  flashes 
of  drawn  swords  were  as  darts  of  lightning.  Be- 
yond the  smoke  and  below  we  could  hear  the 
clash  of  steel,  cries  of  pain,  and  savage  oaths, 
where  men  were  fighting  and  dying  hard.  As  I 
dashed  down  the  passage,  sword  in  hand,  my  only 
thought  to  reach  the  prisoner  s  room,  one  of  the 
retreating  figures  turned  and  called  out,  *  Quick, 
monseigneur !  follow  me — the  secret  stair !  * 

It  was  Lafin.  In  the  confusion  and  semi-gloom 
he  had  mistaken  me  for  his  chief.  I  made  no 
answer,  but,  as  I  rushed  forwards,  struck  him  on 


3l6  THE   CHEVALIER  D'AURIAC 

the  face  with  the  hilt  of  my  sword,  and  he  rolled 
over  like  a  log. 

Now  I  was  right  in  amongst  the  scared  plotters, 
cheek  by  jowl  with  M.  de  Savoye's  envoy,  and  I 
could  have  dropped  him  then  and  there,  but  that 
my  whole  heart  was  in  Madame's  room,  and  I 
knew  that  there  were  others  who  could  and  would 
deal  with  him. 

As  I  elbowed  my  way  through  the  press,  vainly 
endeavouring  to  find  the  way  to  my  dear's  prison, 
we  reached  a  landing  from  which  a  long  stair  led 
straight  up,  and  here  I  heard  the  Marshal's  voice, 
cracked  with  rage  and  fear. 

*  Lafin  !     de  Gomeron  !     To  me — here !  here  ! ' 

*  Ladies  first.  Marshal.  I  must  look  to  my 
bride.' 

Then  through  the  smoke  I  saw  de  Gomeron's 
tall  figure  mounting  the  stair,  and  I  rushed  for- 
ward to  follow  him. 

It  was  at  this  juncture  that  a  portion  of  our  own 
party  forced  their  way  to  the  landing,  and  one  of 
them,  whose  sword  was  broken,  flung  himself 
upon  me,  dagger  in  hand,  shouting,  '  Death  to 
traitors.'  I  had  just  time  to  seize  his  wrist.  He 
tripped  sideways  over  something  that  lay  very 
quiet  at  our  feet,  and,  dragging  me  down,  we 
rolled  over  and  over,  with  the  clash  of  blades 
over  us.  '  It  is  I— fool — I,  d'Auriac — let  go,'  I 
shouted,  as  he  tried  to  stab  at  me. 

'  Let  go  you,'  sputtered  d' Aubusson's  voice,  and 
we  loosed  each  other.  I  had  no  time  for  another 
word,  and  grasping  my  sword,  which  was  hang- 


AT  THE  SIGN  OF  'THE   TOISON  D'OR'     317 

ing  to  my  wrist  by  the  knot,  I  sprang  up,  and  the 
next  moment  was  hot  foot  after  de  Gomeron. 

I  managed  somehow  to  force  my  way  through 
the  crowd,  but  the  stairway  was  half-full  of  men, 
and  at  the  head  of  it  stood  the  free-lance,  with  a 
red  sword  in  his  hand,  and  two  or  three  huddled 
objects  that  lay  in  shapeless  masses  around  him. 

Some  one,  with  a  reckless  indifference  to  his 
own  life — it  was,  I  afterwards  found  out,  Pantin — 
held  up  a  torch,  and  as  the  flare  of  it  shot  up  the 
stairway  de  Gomeron  threw  back  his  head  and 
laughed  at  us. 

*  Twenty  to  one — come,  gentlemen — or  must  I 
come  to  you  ?  *  He  took  a  couple  of  steps  down 
the  stairs,  and  the  crowd,  that  had  made  as  if  it 
would  rush  him,  wavered  and  fell  back,  bearing 
me,  hoarse  with  shouting  for  way,  with  them  to 
the  landing. 

For  the  moment,  penned  up  and  utterly  unable 
to  get  forward,  I  was  a  mere  spectator  to  what 
followed. 

The  free-lance  took  one  more  downward  step, 
and  then  a  slight  figure,  with  one  arm  in  a  sling, 
slid  out  from  the  press  and  flew  at  him. 

It  was  d'Ayen,  and  I  felt  a  sudden  warming  of 
the  heart  to  the  man  who  was  going  to  his  death. 

*You — you  traitor,'  he  gasped,  as,  using  his 
sword  with  his  left  hand,  his  sword  ripped  the 
free-lance's  ruff. 

'  Stand  back,  old  fool— stand  back— or— there  ! 
Take  it,'  and,  with  a  sharp  scream,  d'Ayen  fell 
backwards,  the  crowd  splitting  for  a  moment,  so 


3l8  THE    CHEVALIER  D'AURIAC 

that  he  rolled  to  the  foot  of  the  stairs  and  came 
up  at  my  feet.  God  rest  his  soul !  He  died  at 
the  last  like  a  gallant  man. 

They  were  backing  in  confusion  now,  and  above 
the  din  1  could  hear  the  mocking  of  de  Gome- 
ron. 

'  Come,  gentlemen,  do  not  delay,  time  presses.* 

One  rush  through  at  that  time  might  have 
saved  him,  but  he  stood  there  playing  with  death. 
With  an  effort  I  pushed  d'Ayen,  who  was  still 
breathing,  against  the  side  of  the  wall,  to  let  the 
poor  wretch  die  in  such  comfort  as  could  be,  and, 
seeing  my  chance  at  last,  made  my  way  to  the 
front. 

De  Gomeron  was  half-way  down  the  stairs  by 
this,  and  when  our  swords  met  he  did  not  for  the 
moment  recognise  me.  But  at  the  second  pass 
he  realised,  and  the  torchlight  showed  him  pale 
to  the  forehead. 

'  You! '  he  said  between  his  teeth. 

'  Yes — I — from  under  the  Seine,'  and  I  had  run 
him  through  the  throat  but  for  our  position, 
where  the  advantage  was  all  his,  and  my  reach 
too  short.  He  had  backed  a  step  up  as  I  spoke. 
Whether  it  was  my  sudden  appearance  or  what, 
I  know  not,  but  from  this  moment  his  bravado 
left  him,  and  he  now  fought  doggedly  and  for 
dear  life. 

There  was  a  hush  behind  me,  and  the  light  be- 
came brighter  as  more  torches  were  brought,  and 
I  could  now  see  the  Camarguer  white  as  a  sheet, 
with  two  red  spots  on  his  cheeks. 


AT  THE  SIGN   OF  *  THE   TO/SON  D'OR'     319 

'Do  you  like  fighting  a  dead  man,  monsieur?' 
I  asked  as  I  parried  a  thrust  in  tierce. 

He  half  groaned,  and  the  red  spot  on  his  cheek 
grew  bigger,  but  he  made  no  answer,  and  step  by 
step  I  forced  him  upwards. 

He  had  been  touched  more  than  once,  and 
there  was  a  stain  on  his  white  satin  doublet  that 
was  broadening  each  moment,  whilst  thrust  and 
parry  grew  weaker,  and  something,  1  know  not 
what,  told  me  he  was  my  man. 

Messieurs,  you  who  may  read  this,  those  at 
least  of  you  who  have  stood  sword  in  hand  and 
face  to  face  with  a  bitter  foe,  where  the  fight  is  to 
the  last,  will  know  that  there  are  moments  when 
it  is  as  if  God  Himself  nerves  the  arm  and  steels 
the  wrist.  And  so  it  was  then  with  me.  I  swear 
it  that  I  forestalled  each  movement  of  the  twink- 
ling blade  before  me,  that  each  artifice  and  trick 
the  skilful  swordsman  who  was  fighting  for  his 
life  employed  was  felt  by  something  that  guided 
my  sword,  now  high,  now  low,  and  ever  and 
again  wet  its  point  against  the  broad  breast  of 
the  Camarguer. 

So,  too,  with  him — he  was  lost,  and  he  knew  it. 
But  he  was  a  brave  man,  if  ever  there  was  one, 
and  he  pulled  himself  together  as  we  reached  the 
upper  landing  for  one  last  turn  with  the  death 
that  dogged  him.  So  fierce  was  the  attack  he 
now  made,  that  had  he  done  so  but  a  moment  be- 
fore, when  the  advantage  of  position  was  his,  I 
know  not  what  had  happened.  But  now  it  was 
different.     He  was  my  man.     I  was  carried  away 


320  THE   CHEVALIER  D'AURIAC 

by  the  fire  within  me,  or  else  in  pity  I  might  have 
spared  him  ;  but  there  is  no  need  to  speak  of  this 
more.  He  thrust  too  high.  I  parried  and  re- 
turned, so  that  the  cross  hilt  of  my  rapier  struck 
dully  over  his  heart,  and  he  died  where  he  fell. 

But  one  word  escaped  him,  some  long-lost 
memory,  some  secret  of  that  iron  heart  came  up 
at  the  last. 

*  Denise  ! '  he  gasped,  and  was  gone. 

I  stood  over  him  for  a  moment,  a  drumming  in 
my  ears,  and  then  I  heard  the  ringing  of  cheers 
and  the  rush  of  feet.  Then  a  half-dozen  strong 
shoulders  were  at  the  door  before  me,  and  as  it 
fell  back  with  a  crash  I  sprang  in  and  took  a  tall, 
slim,  white-robed  figure  in  my  arms,  and  kissed 
her  dear  face  again  and  again. 

One  by  one  those  in  the  room  stepped  out  and 
left  us  together,  and  for  once  a  brave  heart  gave 
way  and  she  sobbed  like  a  child  on  m)^  shoulder. 

I  said  nothing,  but  held  her  to  me,  and  so  we 
might  have  been  for  a  half-hour,  when  I  heard  de 
Belin's  voice  at  the  broken  door : 

'  D'Auriac  !  Come,  man!  —  the  King  waits! 
And  bring  your  prisoner !  * 

There  was  a  laugh  in  his  voice  and  a  light  on 
his  face  as  he  spoke,  and  my  dear  lifted  her  swim- 
ming eyes  to  my  face,  and  I  kissed  her  again, 
saying  : 

'  Come — my  prisoner ! ' 

As  we  passed  out  I  kept  between  Claude  and 
the  grim  figure  still  lying  stark  on  the  landing, 
and  held  her  to  me  so  that  she  could  not  see.     So, 


AT  THE  SIGN   OF  '  THE   TOISON  D'OR'     321 

with  Lisois  before  us,  we  passed  down  the  passage, 
filled  now  with  men-at-arms,  and  halted  before  a 
room,  the  door  of  which  was  closed. 

*  We  must  wait  here  a  moment,*  said  de  Belin  ; 
and  merely  to  say  something,  I  asked  : 

*  I  suppose  we  have  the  whole  nest  ?  * 

*  All  who  were  not  killed.  Stay  !  One  escaped 
— that  rascal  Ravaillac.  I  could  have  run  him 
through,  but  did  not  care  to  soil  my  sword  with 
such  canaille,  so  his  skin  is  safe.* 

*And  Babette?* 

He  gave  me  an  expressive  look  and  muttered 
something  about  Montfaugon.  Then  the  door  was 
flung  open  and  a  stream  of  light  poured  forth. 
We  entered,  and  saw  the  King  standing  sur- 
rounded by  his  friends,  and  a  little  on  one  side 
was  the  dejected  group  of  conspirators. 

The  Marshal,  now  abject,  mean,  and  cringing, 
was  kneeling  before  Henry,  who  raised  him  as  we 
entered,  saying  : 

'  Biron,  and  you,  Tremouille,  and  you  all  who 
called  yourselves  my  friends,  and  lay  in  wait  to 
destroy  me  and  destroy  your  country — I  cannot 
forget  that  we  were  old  comrades,  and  for  old 
friendships*  sake  I  have  already  told  you  that  I 
forgive;  and  God  give  you  all  as  clean  a  con- 
science as  I  have  over  the  blood  that  has  been 
spilt  to-day.* 

He  ran  his  eye  over  the  group,  and  they  stood 
before  him  abashed  and  ashamed,  and  yet  over- 
come with  joy  at  escape  when  death  seemed  so 
certain  ;   and  he,  their  leader,  the  man  who  hoped 

21 


322  THE   CHEVALIER  D'AURIAC 

to  see  his  head  on  a  crown-piece,  broke  into  un- 
manly sobbing,  and  was  led  away  vowing  re- 
pentance— vows  that  he  broke  again,  to  find  then 
that  the  mercy  of  the  King  was  already  strained 
to  breaking-point. 

As  Lafin,  with  a  white  and  bleeding  face,  led 
his  master  away,  Henry's  eye  fell  on  me,  and  he 
beckoned  me  to  advance.  I  did  so,  leading 
Claude  by  the  hand. 

*  Chevalier,'  he  said,  '  it  is  saying  little  when  I 
say  that  it  is  through  you  that  these  misguided 
gentlemen  have  realised  their  wrong-doing.  There 
is  one  recompense  you  would  not  let  me  make 
you  for  the  wrongs  you  have  suffered.  There 
is,  however,  a  reward  for  your  services  which 
perhaps  you  will  accept  from  me.  I  see  before 
me  a  Royal  Ward  who  has  defied  her  guardian — 
Ventre  St.  Gris  !  My  beard  is  getting  over  grey 
to  look  after  such  dainties.  I  surrender  my 
Ward  to  your  care.'  As  he  said  this  he  took 
Claude's  hand  and  placed  it  in  mine.  '  I  see, 
madame,'  he  added,  'that  this  time  you  have  no 
objections  to  the  King's  choice.  There — quite 
right.     Kiss  her,  man ! ' 

It  is  all  over  at  last — that  golden  summer  that 
was  so  long,  and  yet  seems  but  a  day.  It  is  ten 
years  ago  that  those  shining  eyes,  that  never  met 
mine  but  with  the  love-light  in  them,  were  closed 
for  ever ;  and  the  gift  that  God  gave  me  that  did 
He  take  back. 

I   am    old,  and  grey,  and  worn.     My  son,  the 


AT   THE  SIGN   OF  '  THE   TO/SON  D'OR'     323 

Vicompte  de  Bidache,  is  in  Paris  with  the  Car- 
dinal, whilst  I  wait  at  Auriac  for  the  message  that 
will  call  me  to  her.  When  she  went,  Bidache, 
where  we  lived,  became  unbearable  to  me,  and  I 
came  back  here  to  wait  till  I  too  am  called — to 
wait  and  watch  the  uneasy  sea,  to  hear  the  scream 
of  the  gulls,  and  feel  the  keen  salt  air. 

I  have  come  to  the  last  of  the  fair  white  sheets 
of  paper  the  Cur^  brought  for  me  from  Havre 
this  autumn,  and  it  grows  strangely  dark  even  for 
my  eyes.  I  will  write  no  more,  but  sit  out  on  the 
terrace  and  wait  for  the  sunset.  Perhaps  she 
may  call  me  to-day. 

'  Jacques,  my  hat  and  cloak !  * 


THE    END. 


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>> 


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''A  wholesome  tale.  .  .  .  It  Is  a  pleasant  story,  delightfully  told,  and  with  a  whole- 
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-  This  is  a  story  that  will  repay  the  time  spent  over  it.  Mrs,  Parr  is  a  strong  and  inter 
I  ,.  ;Jr      Her  characters  are  Uve  characters,  and  the  incidents  through  which  they 

:sting  ^J'^^J-  ^^^^dSst^^^^  Her  present  story  is  throughout  an  exceptionally  interesting 
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,n  iood  paper."-CHRisTiAN  AT  Work,  N.  Y.  _ 

KrdegradeTso  much^f  m^odern  fic';io„."-L.TERAKV  Wohlb,  Boston 

interesting."— Advertiser,  Portland,  Me. 

-  Mrs.  Parr  has  given  us  an  altogether  charming  hook."-THAVELLEK  Boston. 

■•  One  of  the  daintiest,  most  homehke  and  natural  ftones  of  the  week     ...     the  gm 
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THE  HOUSE  OF  THE  WOLF. 

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?ht:  ^-bTsI^oH;  r:fhe"Lnc\y"no7';hrVi'Jlmt"'?iis^cha  Jeter  alone  would  make  the 
""" .  K— "as  1 1  e.e  witness  in  a  forceful  wa.  with  a  rapid  and  graphic  style  that 
commands  interest  and  admiration.  ,    ,  ,5  ^^^  ^hich  we  have  read  this  ranks  first 

Of  the  half  dozen  stones  of  St.  Bartholomew  s^^e      ,       •     j   je." 
in  vividness,  delicacy  of  perception,  reserve  power,  and  high  P-^^gP^^^^,^^  Union,  N.  V. 

1  literature  along  side  of  Cr  ailes 

'«  A  romance  which,  although  short,  deserves  a  place  m  Ute         ^^^  ,^  book  not  only 

Reade's  'Cloister  and  the  Hearth.'  .  .  '.^yJ^^^,!  Van  usual  amount  of  space  because 
a  thorough  reading  with  great  mterest,  ^ut  ^1  so  a  more  than  ^^^.^^.^^  i,,  ^^ 

we  consider  it  one  of  the  b,*^^'/^^'???'^^.  ^^  J'X^that^is^  t^"'^  '°  ^^'^'*'  *"*^  ^** 

adventures  and  scenes  may  be  described  ui  ^3^.  ^^^^\  j/'  ^ 

delicate,  quaint,  and  free  from  all  coarseness  and  ^"^"'^^'J-^j^j^ercial  Advertiser,  N.  Y. 

LONGMANS,  GEEEN,  &  00.,  91-93  PirTH  AVE.,  NEW  YOEZ. 


OLD    MR.  TREDGOLD. 

A  STORY    OF    TWO    SISTERS. 

By  Mrs.  M.  O.  W.  OLIPHANT, 

AUTHOR   OF    "chronicles   OF   CARLINGFORD,"    "  MADAM,"   ETC. 


Crown  Svo,  Buckram  Cloth,  $1.50. 


Not  many  novelists  have  written  so  much  and  so  well  as  Mrs.  Oliohant  Her 
present  novel  shows  her  at  her  best.  The  character-drawing  is  first  rate  and  the 
story  as  a  story  is  full  of  interest."-PuBLiSHERs'  Circular. 

"  When  we  open  one  of  Mrs.  M.  O.  W.  Oliphant's  books  we  know  that  we  shall 
find  a  clean  wholesome,  yivid  story,  generally  of  a  domestic  character.  Such  a  charac- 
ter is    Old  Mr.  Tredgold.' 

The  book  is  one  that  can  be  best  enjoyed  in  a  cozy  room,  on  a  winter's  evening 
with  no  one  to  hustle  you  to  bed  prematurely  or  to  break  in  upon  your  pleasure  with: 
irrelevant  talk."— Commercial  Advertiser,  N.  Y.  t-      j        t^ 

u"  ^"  ^^^^^"lely  clever  and  consistent  picture  of  a  spoiled  and  willful  girl,  devoted 
to  herself  and  to  nobody  else,  and  who,  to  the  reader's  possible  dissatisfaction,  has  not 
meted  out  to  her  poetic  justice.    The  story  is  readable  in  every  respect." 

— S.  F.  Chronicle. 
"  Again  does  Mrs.  Oliphant  show  her  remarkable  skill  in  character  painting." 

— Beacon,  Boston. 
"A  wholesome  tale  of  true  lives  and  true  loves,  and  the  persons  who  act  their  ^ 
parts  are  close  kindred  to  ourselves."-SuN,  Baltimore. 

or,^  l^^^'  9,yP^^"t  ^^^.^^,?^^"y  American  readers  and  admirers  as  she  has  English, 
and  they  will  welcome  '  Old  Mr.  Tredgold '  from  her  pen.  .  .  .  This  new  work 
has  all  the  characteristics  of  her  earlier  novels,  and  will  be  read  with  pleasure."  ' 

—Commercial  Gazette,  Cincinnati. 


THE  MATCHMAKER. 

A   NOVEL. 

By   MRS.    L.    B.  WALFORD. 


Crown  Svo,  Cloth,  Ornamental,  $1.50. 

"Sure  to  find  a  large  circle  of  refined  and  intelligent  readers.  The  storv  is  con- 
stantly lighted  up  with  touches  of  humor,  and  the  picture  of  simple  family  life  and  the 
feminine  occupations  it  affords  is  natural  and  entertaining."-BEACON,  Boston 

"  It  will  be  found  one  of  the  most  delightful  of  its  author's  works."— New  York 

"...    A  well-told,  entertaining  story  of  interesting  people." 

^  -  —Detroit  Free  Press. 

•  .  .  .  A  fresh  and  interesting  picture  of  life  in  a  Scottish  castle,  and  intro- 
duces many  characters  notable  for  the  faithfulness  to  nature  with  which  they  are 
Sl?-7"/  The  incidents  are  interesting  enough  to  fix  ihe  attention  of  the  reader  and  to 
hold  It  until  the  closing  chapter.  "-The  Advertiser,  Portland. 

"  Emphatically  a  good  novel."— Public  Opinion. 
.ocfi'l'^?'^  what  befell  a  gay  London  girl  during  her  six  months' sojourn  in  the  Scotch 
castle  of  some  old  fashioned  relatives      .     .     .     The  story  is  a  good  one,  much  the  best 
of  It  being  the  delinea  ion  of  the  stiff  necked  Carnoustie  fanVily,  and  its  magisterial 
dowager  and  its  pathetic  and  comical  old  maids."-BosTON  Traveller     '"'"^'^'^"^^ 

LONGMANS,  GEEEN,  &  CO.,  91-93  FIFTH  AVENUE,  NEW  YORK 


A  MONK  OF  FIFE. 

A    ROMANCE    OF   THE    DAYS    OF   JEANNE    D'ARC. 

Done  into  English  from  the  manuscript  in  the  Scots  College  of  Ratisbon 
By  ANDREW    LANG. 


With  Frontispiece.    12mo,  Cloth,  Ornamental,  $1.25. 

-Trflntine-  that  Norman  Leslie  was  no  myth,  and  was  truly  admonished  by  his 

I.wlTeryetUi?rfofhrs  tellitfg.and  the  refder  must  insist  upon  feeling  indebted  to 
?his  ncJmpSle  wrker  for  of/e  of  the  most  beautiful  and  touchmg  romances  given 
to  the  woria  for  many  a  loug  day. "-Chicago  Evening  Post. 

"  Mr  Lang's  portrait  of  the  Maid  is  a  beautiful  one.    He  does  not  ether^hze 
Mr.  l^an^  s  poi  iciiu  insists  on  her  most  human  characteristics;  and  his 

her  ^^nduly-i  deed  he  rath^^^  n  ^^  ^^^  ^^^^^  .^^^^  ^^^ 

Eer  cafee^r'a   a    i  sp^^^^^^  kittle  incidetrts  showing  her  as  the  smi^e- 

ner  career  ab  .111  1U3P  y  cnnnosed  to  be  one  of  her  body-guard,  and  his  sweetheart 
hearted  girl.    The  hero  ^^^^PP^^^^^  ^o  be  one  ot^^^^     the  cintral  figure,  the  story  o 

tZ^^over^S  thedangeV^^^^^^  hero  and  the  heroine  is  so  skillfully  woven  m  that 
lul  Inol  is  nothing  likl  a  history  of  France  at  the  time,  but  is  a  real  romance ;  and 

featJTor  a  leneration  or  two."-CoLORADO  Springs  Gazette. 

Stirring  campaign  under  the  leadership  of  ^Jj^  Ma  d  of  Orlean^^^^  ^^^ 

means  read  Mr.  Lang's  romance."-REViEW  of  Reviews,  N.  Y. 

-The  story  is  admirably  told  in   a  style  which  reminds  one  of  Stevenson  s  best 
work  in  historical  fiction."— Boston  Traveler. 

"  A  brilliant,  vivid,  dramatic,  and  historically  consistent  d^^^^^^^^^  ^e  career  o^ 

that  wonderful  maiden  Joan  of  Arc  is  Presented  bv  Andrew  Lai^g  mn  y 

wrought,  close-textured,  and  adventurous  ^9"^ance  called  A  Monk  ot  i^  ne 
has  from  beginning  to  end  a  lifelike  coloring  that  the  sympathetic  reauer 
nothinglessthanenthralling."— Boston  Beacon. 

"Mr.  Lang  has  made  a  most  pleasing  and  readable  romance    fuU  ^ 
fighting  adventures  and  exc.tmg  JP.'^odes.    There  is  a  qVi'''^"'f~  ^f  joaii  of  Arc  has 
kSeping  with  the  period  and  which  is  an  added  charm       '  ^if'j^is  book." 
been  many  times  told,  but  never  any  more  mterestuigly  than  in  tn;f^°°|!;;^^  ^.j^^s. 

"A  delightful  romance.  .  .  .  Mr  Lang  has  made  admtable  use  of  his  material 
and  has  given  us  a  quaint  and  stirring  tale  that  is  well  worth  rffg;^"e;^.^,.„  eagle. 

■'  A  picture,  rich  in  detail,  of  the  days  of  the  Maid  of  Orleans ;  and  it  is  abundantly 
clear  that  the  picture  is  drawn  by  one  who  knows  '^e  Penod,  not  onlv^  i^^.  ^^^  ^JV^ 
prosaic  se,uen.of  battles,^ 

ill5^epic,-and\tt^nafa?^Xi  Str« 
period  so  confusing  to  the  novice  in  history,  —critic,  ix.  « • 

LONGMANS,  GEEEN,  &  CO.,  91-93  PIPTH  AYENUE,  NEW  YOBK. 


KLOTSAVI. 

THE    STUDY    OF   A    LIFE. 

By  henry  SETON   MERRIMAN, 

AUTHOR     OF     "with     EDGED     TOOLS,"     "  THE     SOWERS,"     ETC. 

With    Frontispiece    and    Vignette    by    H.   G.    MASSEY. 
1  2mo,  Cloth,  Ornannental,  $1.25. 


*'  The  scene  of  this  thoroughly  interesting  book  is  laid  at  the  time  of  the  great 
Indian  mutiny  of  1857,  and  the  chapters  devoted  to  that  terrible  episode  in  the  history 
of  English  rule  in  India  are  among  the  most  interesting  in  the  volume,  the  capture  of 
Delhi  in  particular  being  graphically  described."— Herald,  Oneonta,  N.  Y. 

"  It  is  a  powerful  study."— Cincinnati  Commercial  Gazette. 

"One  of  the  strongest  novels  of  the  season." — Boston  Advertiser. 

"It  is  decidedly  a  novel  worth  reading."— New  England  Magazine. 

"...  From  first  to  last  our  interest  in  the  dramatic  development  of  the  plot  is- 
never  allowed  to  flag.  '  Flotsam  '  will  amply  sustain  the  reputation  which  Mr. 
Merriman  has  won." — Charleston  News  and  Courier. 

"  It  is  a  rather  stirring  story,  dealing  with  breezy  adventures  in  the  far  East,  and 
sketching  in  strong  outlines  some  very  engaging  phases  of  romance  in  India  not  down. 
in  Mr.  Kipling's  note-books."— Independent,  New  York. 

"  It  is  a  novel  of  strong,  direct,  earnest  purpose,  which  begins  well  in  a  literary- 
sense  and  ends  better." — Sun,  Baltimore. 

**  A  brilliant  gift  for  characterization  and  dramatic  effect  put  his  novels  among- 
the  best  of  the  season  for  entertainment,  and,  to  no  small  extent,  for  instruction." 

—Dial,  Chicago. 

"  Mr.  Merriman  can  write  a  good  story  ;  he  proved  that  in  '  The  Sowers,'  and  he 
shows  it  anew  in  this.  .  .  .  The  story  is  a  strong  one  and  told  with  freshness  and 
simple  realism."— Current  Literature,  New  York. 

*'  His  story  is  remarkably  well  told."— Herald,  Columbia,  Mo. 

"  It  is  a  novel  written  with  a  purpose,  yet  it  is  entirely  free  from  preaching  or 
moralizing.  The  young  man,  Harry  Wylam,  whose  career  from  childhood  to  the 
prime  of  manhood  is  described,  is  a  bright,  daring,  and  lovable  character,  who  starts 
with  every  promise  of  a  successful  life,  but  whose  weakness  of  will,  and  love  of 
pleasure,  wreck  his  bright  hopes  midway.  The  author  shows  unusual  skill  in  dealing 
with  a  subject  which  in  less  discreet  hands  might  have  been  an  excuse  for  morbidity." 

—Boston  Beacon. 

"  A  story  of  lively  and  romantic  incident.  .  .  .  His  story  is  remarkably  welt 
told." — New  York  Sun. 

"  The  story  is  full  of  vigorous  action     .     .     .    and  interesting." 

— Public  Opinion. 


LONGMANS,  6EEEN,  &  00,,  91-93  PIFTH  ATENUE,  NEW  YOEK. 


A  GENTLEMAN  OF  FRANCE 

Being  the  Memoirs  of  Gaston  de  Bonne, 
Sleur  de  Marsac. 

By  STANLEY  J.  WEYMAN. 

AUTHOR  OF  "THE  HOUSE  OF  THE  WOLF,"  ETC 


With  Frontispiece  and  Vignette  by  H.  J.  Ford. 
l2mo,  Cloth,    Ornamental,  $1.25. 

"  One  of  the  best  novels  since  '  Lorna  Doone.'  It  will  be  read  and  then  re-read  for  the 
mere  pleasure  its  reading  gives.  The  subtle  charm  of  it  is  not  m  merely  transporting  the 
Scenth  "entury  reade?  to  the  sixteenth,  that  he  may  see  life  as  it  was  then,  but  m  trans- 
fomi^m  "hiin  into  a  sixteenth-century  man.  thinking  its  thoughts,  and  living  its  life  m  perfect 
touch  and  sympathy  .  .  .  k  carries  the  reader  out  of  his  present  life  givmg  h^ 
and  totally  different  existence  that  rests  and  refreshes  him."— N.  Y.  World. 

•'  No  novelist  outside  of  France  has  displayed  a  more  definite  comprehension  of  the  very 
essence  of  medieval  French  life,  and  no  one,  certainly,  has  been  able  to  set  forth  a  dep.ct.oB 
Tf  It  h^cobrs  so  vivid  and  so  entirely  in  consonancewith  the  truth.  .  .  ..  The  characters 
in  the  tale  are  admirably  drawn,  and  the  narrative  is  nothing  less  than  fascmaUng  m  its  fine 
flavor  of  adventure."— Beacon,  Boston. 

"We  hardly  know  whether  to  call  this  latest  work  of  Stanley  J.  Weynrian  a  histor^ 
lomance  or  a  story  of  adventure.  It  has  all  the  interestmg,  fascmating  and  thr.l  ing  charac- 
iSs  of  Soth.  The  scene  is  in  France,  and  the  time  is  .that  fateful  eventful  one  which 
culmmated  in  Henry  of  Navarre  becoming  king.  Naturally  it  is  a  story  of  plots  and  intngue. 
of  danglr  aid  of  the  ^rand  passion,  abounding  in  intense  dramatic  scenes  and  most  mterest; 
?ngsirations.^t  is  a  romance  which  will  rank  --^  ^he  masterp.^e^  o^^h^s^tor.^^^^^ 

"  A  romance  after  the  style  of  Dumas  the  elder,  and  well  worthy  of  being  read  by  those 

-who  can  euiov  stirring  adventures  toid  m  true  romantic  fashion.  .  .  .  the  great  person- 
Iges  of  thftlme-ALry  III.  of  Valois,  Henry  IV.,  Rosny,  Rambouillet  lurenne-are 
bfouoht  in  skillfully,  and  the  tragic  and  varied  history  of  the  time  forms  a  splendid  frame  m 

^h'chtosettr  •  /  •  ^^"'i°"^^°"%i^y',^r„r" 

described  and  the  interest  is  genume  and  lasting,  for  up  to  ^^e  very  end  the  author  manages 
effects  which  impel  the  reader  to  go  on  with  renewed  curiosity.  —The  NatioW. 

"A  genuine  and  admirable  piece  of  work.  .  .  .  The  reader  will  not  turn  many  pag« 
before  hffinTs  himself  in  the  grasp  of  a  writer  who  holds  his  attention  to  the  very  last  mo- 
aient  of  the  story.     The  spirit  of  adventure  pervades  the  whole  from  beginnmg  to  end      ... 

It  may  be  skid  that  the  narration  is  a  deUghtful  love  story.  The  J"  ?^^^^  ^f  J^^ J^J^ 
is  constantly  excited  by  the  development  of  unexpected  turns  in  the  relation  of  the  pnnc.pal 
lovers.  The  romance  lies  against  a  background  of  history  truly  painted.  •  '  '  ^^^ 
descriptions  of  the  court  life  of  the  period  and  of  the  factional  strifes,  divisions  j^^^reds  of  th^ 
age,  are  fine.  .  .  .  This  story  of  those  times  is  worthy  ot  a  very  high  place  among  histon- 
cal  novels  of  recent  years."— Public  Opinion. 

"  Bold,  strong,  dashing,  it  is  one  of  the  best  we  have  read  for  many  years.    We  ^t  dowa 
for  a  cursory  perusal,  and  ended  by  readmg  it  delightedly  through      .     .     .     ^*;;  ^^^^ 
has  much  of  the  vigor  and  rush  of  incident  of  Dr.  Conan  Doyle,  and  ^^"^-^^^[^"^^7^^^^^^ 
beside 'The  White  Company.'     .     .     .     We  very  cordially  recommend  th  shook  to  the  jaded 

novel  reader  who  cares  for  manly  actions  more  than  for  morbid  '"^■'O^Pl^^^.'^^* Churchman. 

"The  book  is  not  only  good  literature,  it  is  a  'rattling  good  ?t°n^'';"'^"^V;;;^'V^^^^ 
.spirit  of  true  adventure  and  stirring  emotion.  Of  love  and  P«"l',;"i"gf  ,  ^"^.^^^.^''^^d  th.^ 
is  plenty,  and  many  scenes  could  not  have  been  bettered  In  a  I  ^  ;«^dventures  and^hej 
are  many.  Marsac  acts  as  befits  his  epoch  and  his  own  modest  yet  gallant  P^^^^^.H^^^^^^ 
known  historical  figures  emerge  in  telling  fashion  under  Mr.  Weyraan  s  discriminating  ana 
fascinating  touch."— Atiien^um.  :,,.;^„ 

"I  cannot  fancv  any  reader,  old  or  young,  not  sharing  with  doughty  Crillon  ^is  admiral  on 
for  M.  de  Marsrc?X?lhough  no  swas];buckler.  ha.  a  sword  ^^at  leaps  ^ro- us  scabbed  ^ 
breath  of  msult.     .     .     .     There  are  several  histoncal  personages  in  th^^^^ 
course,  a  heroine,  of  great  beauty  and  enterprise  ;  but  that   true     Gendcman   ot    fr;;nce. 
M.  de  Marsac.  with  his  P-everan^e^and^vaJor,  clom^^^^^^^^  ^^^^^  ^^^^^ 

LONQMAUS,  GEEEN,  &  CO..  91-93  HPTH  AVE.,  BE¥  YOEK, 


MY  LADY  ROTHA. 

A  ROMANCE  OF  THE  THIRTY  YEARS'  WAR. 
By  STANLEY  J.  WEYMAN. 

AUTHOR   OF    **A   GENTLEMAN   OF   FRANCE,"    "UNDER    THB    RED    ROBE," 
"the   house   of  THE   WOLF." 


With  Eight  Illustrations.    Crown  8vo,  $1.25. 


"  Few  writers  of  fiction  who  have  appeared  in  England  in  the  last  decade  have  given 
their  readers  more  satisfaction  than  Mr.  Stanley  J.  Weyman,  and  no  single  writer  of  this 
number  can  be  said  to  have  approached  him,  much  less  to  have  equaled  him  in  the  romantic 
world  of  the  historical  novel  ...  he  has  the  art  of  story-telling  in  the  highest  degree, 
the  art  which  instinctively  divines  the  secret,  the  soul  of  the  story  which  he  tells,  and  the 
rarer  art,  if  it  be  not  the  artlessness,  which  makes  it  as  real  and  as  inevitable  as  life  itself. 
His  characters  are  alive,  human,  unforgetable,  resembling  in  this  '•espect  those  of  Thackeray 
in  historical  lines  and  in  a  measure  those  of  Dumas,  with  whom,  and  not  inaptly,  Mr.  Wey- 
man has  been  compared.  His  literature  is  good,  so  good  that  we  accept  it  as  a  matter  of 
course,  as  we  do  that  of  Thackeray  and  Scott.  .  .  .  Mr.  Weyman's  historical  novels 
•will  live." — New  York  Mail  and  Express. 

"...  differs  signally  from  Mr.  Weyman's  earlier  pubhshed  works.  It  is  treated 
with  the  minuteness  and  lovingness  of  a  first  story  which  has  grown  up  in  the  mind  of  the 
author  for  years.  .  .  .  Marie  Wort  is  one  of  the  bravest  souls  that  ever  moved  quietly 
along  the  pages  of  a  novel.  She  is  so  unlike  the  other  feminine  characters  whom  Weyman 
has  drawn  that  the  diffc:rence  is  striking  and  adds  significance  to  this  one  book.  .  .  . 
•  My  Lady  Rotha  '  is  full  of  fascinating  interest,  all  the  more  remarkable  in  a  work  adhering 
so  strictly  to  historical  truth." — Evening  Post,  Chicago. 

**  This  last  book  of  his  is  brimful  of  action,  rushing  forward  with  a  roar,  leaving  the 
reader  breathless  at  the  close ;  for  if  once  begun  there  is  no  stopping  place.  The  concep- 
tion is  unique  and  striking,  and  the  culmination  unexpected.  The  author  is  so  saturated 
with  the  spirit  of  the  times  of  which  he  writes,  that  he  merges  his  personality  in  that  of  the 
supposititious  narrator,  and  the  virtues  and  failings  of  his  men  and  women  are  set  forth  in  a 
fashion  which  is  captivating  from  its  very  simplicity.     It  is  one  of  his  best  novels." 

— Public  Opiniok. 

**Readers  of  Mr.  Weyman's  novels  will  have  no  hesitation  in  pronouncing  his  just  pub- 
lished '  My  Lady  Rotha  '  in  every  way  his  greatest  and  most  artistic  production.  We 
know  of  nothing  more  fit,  both  in  conception  and  execution,  to  be  classed  with  the  immortal 
Waverleys  than  this  his  latest  work.  ...  A  story  true  to  life  and  true  to  the  times 
which  Mr.  Weyman  has  made  such  a  careful  study."   —The  Advertiser,  Boston, 

**  No  one  of  Mr.  Weyman's  books  is  better  than  '  My  Lady  Rotha  '  unless  it  be  'Under 
the  Red  Robe,'  and  those  who  have  learned  to  like  his  stories  of  the  old  days  when  might 
made  right  will  appreciate  it  thoroughly.     It  is  a  good  book  to  read  and  read  again." 

— New  York  World, 

**  .  .  .  As  good  a  tale  of  adventure  as  any  one  need  ask  ;  the  picture  of  those  war- 
like times  is  an  excellent  one,  full  of  life  and  color,  the  blare  of  trumpets  and  the  flash  of 
steel  —and  toward  the  close  the  description  of  the  besieged  city  of  Nuremberg  and  of  the 
battle  under  Wallenstein's  entrenchments  is  masterly." — Boston  Traveller. 

"The  loveliest  and  most  admirable  character  in  the  story  is  that  of  a  young  Catholic  girl, 
while  in  painting  the  cruelties  and  savage  barbarities  of  war  at  that  period  the  brush  is  held 
by  an  impartial  hand.  Books  of  adventure  and  romance  are  apt  to  be  cheap  and  sensational, 
Mr.  Weyman's  stories  are  worth  tons  of  such  stuff.  They  are  thrilling,  exciting,  absorbing, 
interesting,  and  yet  clear,  strong,  and  healthy  in  tone,  written  by  a  gentleman  and  a  man  of 
sense  and  taste." — Sacked  Heart  Review,  Boston. 

**  Mr.  Weyman  has  outdone  himself  in  this  remarkable  book.  .  .  .  The  whole  story 
is  told  with  consummate  skill.  The  plot  is  artistically  devised  and  enrolled  before  the  read- 
er's eyes.  The  language  is  simple  and  apt,  and  the  descriptions  are  graphic  and  terse.  The 
charm  of  the  story  takes  hold  of  the  reader  on  the  very  first  page,  and  holds  him  spell-bound 
to  the  very  end." — New  Orleans  Picayune. 


LONGMANS,  GEEEN,  &  CO.,  91-93  TIPTH  AVE.,  NEW  TOEK. 


UNDER    THE    RED    ROBE. 

A    ROMANCE. 
By   STANLEY   J.  WEYMAN, 

AUTHOR  OF  "A  GENTLEMAN  OF  FRANCE,"  "  THE  HOUSE  OF  THE  WOLF,"  ETC. 

With    1  2  Full-page  Illustrations  by  R.  Caton  Woodvllle. 
1  2mo,  Linen  Cloth.  Ornamental,  $1.25. 

"Mr  Wevman  is  a  brave  writer,  who  imagines  fine  things  and  describes  them 
'snlendidly.  There  is  something  to  interest  a  health v  mind  on  every  page  of  his  new 
iltorv  Its  interest  never  flags,  for  his  resource  is  rich,  and  it  is,  moreover  the  kind  of 
a  story  thit  one  cannot  plainly  see  the  end  of  .    •    the  story  reveals 

t  kno^'ledge  of  French  character  and  French  landscape  that  vvas  surely  never  ac-  _ 
Iquired  at  second  hand.  The  beginning  is  wonderfully  interesting."-NEW  York  Times. 

"  As  perfect  a  novel  of  the  new  school  of  fiction  as  '  Ivanhoe  '  or  '  Henry  Esmond  ' 
was  of  thefrs  Each  later  story  has  shown  a  marked  advance  in  strength  and  treat- 
S^pnt  and  fn  the  last  Mr  Weyman  .  .  .  demonstrates  that  he  has  no  superior 
^mone  1  viig  novdfsts  .*  .^  There  are  but  two  characters  in  the  story-his  art 
mTef  a  rothe^but  unnoticed  shadows  cast  by  them-and  the  attention  is  so  keenly 
fixed  upon  one  or  both,  from  the  first  word  to  the  last^  ^^at  we  live  in  their  thoughts 
and  see  the  drama  unfolded  through  their  eyes."-N.  Y.  World. 

"  It  was  bold  to  take  Richelieu  and  his  time  as  a  subject  and  thus  to  challenge  com- 
Darison  wfth  Dumas's  immortal  musketeers;  but  theresult  justifies  the  boldness.  . 

The  niot  is  admirablv  clear  and  strong,  the  diction  singularly  concise  and  telling,  and 
the  s?  ?ring  e^ents^are  so  man  S  not  to  degenerate  in^^'^"'^'^S"^Ti'^^- Vn«T 

beulrnovfls  of  adventure  than  this  have  ever  been  written. "--Outlook,  New  York. 

«'  A  wonderfully  brilliant  and  thrilling  romance.   .   --.Mr.  Weyman  has  a^p^^^^^^^ 

have"bSn  sVlendidryTlluminated  by  his  novels  which  a-  t^  be  reckoned  am^^^^^^ 
notable  successes  of  later  nineteenth-century  fiction.    This  story  o      Und^^^^^^^ 
Robe'  is  in  its  way  one  of  the  very  best  things  he  has  done      It  i^illustratea  wiio 
^gor  anVappropriateness  from  twelve  full-page  designs  by  R.  ^^- ^oodvUle.^^^ 

"  It  is  a  skillfully  drawn  picture  of  the  times  drawn  in  simple  and  transparent 
whirl  caSno  more  escape  from  it  than  a  ship  from  the  maelsWom.^^  ^^  ^^^^^^ 

.h;s^ip[^/^.si^r^iSJS£iiS^^ 

Stanley  Weyman  is  an  author  who  has  apparently  come  to  stay.       Chicago  rob 

''  In  this  story  Mr.  Weyman  returns  to  the  scene  -'^^ ^''^^^Tld.tl'^e".^^ 
although  his  new  heroes  are  of  diff-erent  mould    .  .^^e  book  is  mu  o 
characterized  by  a  deeper  study  of  character  than  its  P^^^^^^^I^J^^shington  Post. 

"Mr.  Weyman  has  quite  topped  his  first  success  '  Y/eS'vetn^Berault.'the 

E^rTfrre't/resI^fM'^^^^^^^^^^ 

^;:rarn%?ir.'^?fl^rf?s'^a'\^\'roX"ri;;fanc?;fir 
by  a  master-hand. "—Philadelphia  Press. 

LOKGMAKS,  GEEEN.  &  CO.,  91-93  riETH  AVE..  NEW  TOEK. 


FROM  THE  MEMOIRS 
OF  A   MINISTER  OF  FRANCE. 

Br  STANLEY  J.  WEYMAN 

AUTHOR   OP    "A   GKNT.KMAN   OK   PRA.CK/>    >■  ukdkK   THE   h'k.   kOBK,'>  KTC,  KTC. 

With    36    Illustrations,    of   which    15    are   full-page 
12mo,  Cloth,  Ornamental,  $1.25. 

so  suUle'l\^cl'i^;.^onyTs'^iI',^1?f^  f^^^fj^^l'^^  '^  ^?^^^^^  ^  ^  masterpiece 
ol  the  times  and  tlie  scenervvith  whic  fit  deals  '' ^?  ^"1?'^^'^^^  ^^^  portraya 

a  really  brilliant  book,  one  that\  iU  appeai^^^^^^^  to  fh.  1  ^'-  ^eyman  has  produced 
ture,  and  to  those  who  demand  in  fictk)n  ?L  ,V^^  tVuIT  ?^  ^'^^r^ture,  of  adven- 
chancesarethat  those  who  take  it  up  will  iioVn^^^  ...     The 

a  hne  uiiread."-BosTON  Beacon  ^      '^  '^'''^"  ^^^'"  ^^^^  a  page  or  even 

or  n^^.Xl^^S7}ll^!^^?T^  -^,^,l^se  an  sense,  for  the  moment, 
romance.     .     .     .     Wevman  ino'o  i        u.     ^^"^'^  ^^^i"  at  the  pure  SDrincr  ol 

ce„tu.^  life  than  a.„  ro^cei.  since  lc^cftt';?.!^«SUco^,°/.:XLT.^I44'i ^'^'"«'"' 
These  briefer  tales  havp  nil  fv.^    \  ,  ^^^ilajno,  ure. 

author's  longer  ro,na„cesa,:d  ™ny  of  th™erdfn^'!.f '^"^f"<=''%'\«'  ^"^<^h  to  their 
the  n.  He  catches  the  attention  of  the  rearipr  ,f  ?h  *^  characters  of  the  latter  figure  in 
wlnle  h.s  slciil  as  a  story-teller  ^so  grJaT^hat  hil  rh?r7  ?"'"?,'  ^"''  ''°'<^^  "  '°  'he  «k 

reade^awavfrom'lr'Ji""!?^''  and  spirit  that  set  the  blood  tingling,  and  lure  the 
i;urirue.---"T"K"BtsTot''^lRrN?^  °'  gallantrya„d  duels,  of  pa^ssion  anjdark 

among"  ivingw.^t'e?;''^'  "'''-  ^''rh^Jt  ^'"'°?'^^  !?'V^"!=,?  Mr.  Weyman  stands  alone 
connled  with   i,:l     J     •  '  lI    '  .^"'^  ingenuity  and  fertility  of  Mr.  Wevman's  mind 

King  Henry  had  togetherXn'Jh^eyTrouf  sL'?c"h?n;?o'r  X^'ufuf??  ""^  '"  ^"<' 

—Chicago  Evening  Post 
II  the  charm  which  hs 
1  the  king  is  the  cent 
ired  him  to  his  generati 
th  these  tales." 

remarkable'  in^?ghUnto''wJ chosen ''ne?i°;r'''r?'-^ ^'^^ ^--d^^a^d  s^,ow  L^rTthor's 
pletein  itself,  vet  thechararterof  fhe^rfr.^t™"  ■'';''°r>';  1'"^''  "^  ^ein  is  a  story  com- 
They  are  more  than  interest"^  thev?ri  """=  <^''.  '"'^^  'hem  together  into  one  chain, 
out  for  a  moment  becr,?,'i?'d'ull  br';2d^^,Ii^:.'^^°„'i'l3f/,!"'c^J,?;,^^,°f  '''^"'■•^'  -'"'■ 

LONGMANS,  GRE^TToa,  91-93  PIFTH  AVENUE,  NEWYOEK. 


made'ihraufhrr's'  oma'ncl'so  poTular  "l^'iL'sT-  ''^^^  ="'1'"=  ,<^^-V  -l^-"  »ave 
fiffure,  and  many  of  the  noble  trait?  oKIr,  Air?  if-  S^  ^^J""  'h«  .^ing  is  the  central 
are  skillfully  depicted.    ^oon^^'iXt^o^l'VJ.'^^^^^^^^^ 


JOAN    HASTE 

A   NOVEL. 

By  H.  rider  haggard, 

AUTHOR  OF  "  SHE,"  "  HEART  OF  THE  WORLD,"  "  THE  PEOPLEOFTHE  MIST,"  ETC.,  EXa 

With   20  full-page    Illustrations  bv  F-  S-  Wilson. 
12mo,  Cloth,  Ornamental,   $1.25. 

most  impressive  wo[k  of  Mr  H^^^f  f  ^  that  n  ^  y^^  ^^^^  ^^^^  ^^^^^  persona hty  m 
character  which  it  displa>s  ,\^  ,7'"?^^'^^^^^^^  of  thought  and  action  are  revealed  little 
t^^l'^^l^^^rS^^^^^s^^nhor^.s  definite  and  consistent 

creations."-THE  Boston  Beacon. 

"All  the  st.on.  and  striking  peculiarities  that  have  m^^^^^^^ 
works  so  deservedly  popular  are  repeated  he  e  ma  ^^^^^  \P\he  master-hand  of  self- 
his  literary  execution  shows  an  enlarged  skiU^^^^^^^^^ 

restraint  that  indicate  maturity  of  poweu  ^^s  concep  1  ^^^  ^^^  consequently  closer 
the  elimination  of  a  1  ^rudeness  and  haste  an^^^  drawing  of  minor  char- 

to  life.  One  is  reminded  strongly  of  Dickens  ni^  iUustrations  of  the  book  are  nu- 
acters.  Mrs.  Bird  is  such  a  character  .  •^^j^gs'J^e  intensely  dramatic,  and  move  the 
merous  and  strikingly  good.     Many  of  the  scenes  are  ^^^  ^^  ^^^  story  the  wealth 

feelings  to  the  higher  pitch.  .  .^  ;,fthe  wannth  of  its  unstinted  creations.  1  here  is 
of  its  imagination  ^ppears  glovving  in    he  waimth  01  ^  marvelous  variety  of 

a  splendor  in  his  description  a  ^.^^ n  Jh^t  live  aperoem^^^ 

detail,  and  at  all  points  ^creaUve  force  that  give  a  perp  ^.^  fascinating  books  is 

the  fiction  to  which  he  gives  his  po\veif ' ,  jf  ^o\  to  be^outdone  by  the  best  of  them  all 
to  finish  it,  and  this  story  of    Joa"  Ha^\f.    '^  "P'  as  well  as  of  his  treatmen    is  to  be 
The  strength,  emphasis,  and  vigor  f  h^^^^yj^/^  ^^^^'\    'Joan  Haste'  will  become 
credited  to  none  but  superior  gifts  and  poweis.     ...      J 
the  favorite  of  everybody."  -Boston  Courier. 

<'  Mr.  Haggard's  new  story  is  a  sound  and  PJe-sing  -ample  of  n-^e- E^^^-S 
fiction     ...    a  book  worth   reading.     -.    •     •   J^s  Pei^-^S*"^f 5?_^'''^^ 
contrasted,  and  all  reasonably  human  and  interesting."-NEW  York  Iimes. 

"  In  this  pretty,  pathetic  story  Mr.  Haggard  has  lost  none  of  ^s  tr^^art   ^^^^ 
In  every  respect  'Joan  Haste'  contains  masterly  literary  work  o^^^^^  ^J^ 

has  been  deemed  incapable  by  some  of  his  Jor^mer  critics     Cert^^^^^  ^^ 

his  latest  book  weak  or  uninteresting,  while  thousands  ^  ho  en  o^^^^^    ^^^^^  ^^^^  ^^ 
tragic,  but  true  love,  will  pronounce   Joan  Haste    a  oeuer  picv.c 
Haggard's  stories  of  adventure."-BosTON  Advertiser. 

"  This  story  is  full  of  startling  incidents.    It  is  intensely_^mere^sdng.'^  GazettbI  ' 

«'  The  plot  thickens  with  the  growth  of  the  story,  ^^'Wch  is  one  of  uncommon  interest 
and  pathos.    The  book  has  the  advantage  of  the  original  ihus^-ations^^^^^  ^^^^^^ 

-Joan  Haste'  is  really  a  good  deal  -ore  than  Uj^|ordinar^^^ 
countrv  life.     It  is  the  best  thing  H^?gard  has  done     There  is  som 
ing  in  it  that  is  equal  to  anything  of  this  kind  we  have  had_^ecenu.^.^  Lincoln.  Nbb. 

.'  In  this  unwonted  field.he  has  done  welh  /J-", H^^Ji^,;,'^eo^lfi'ren^^^^^^^ 
mer  works  that  it  will  surprise  even  those  ?:ho  have  had  mos^con^^^^  ^  ^^^  atmosphere 

To  those  who  read  Thomas  Hardy's    Tf.ss/>f  \he  U  uroervi  ^^^  ^ 

and  incidents  of  'Joan  Haste  '  ^viH  seem  familiar.     It   |  ^^^Jf^^^Sginalfty ;  but  Haggard 
lines,  and  in  this  particular  it  might  be  accused  ^f  a  lack^^J^^;  ^Hardy's  coarseness  is 

LOHGMAITS,  aKEEN,  &  OoTgi^gslxPTH^VEiuE,  NEW  YOEK. 


THE    PEOPLE    OF    THE    MIST. 

By  H.  rider  haggard, 

AXJTHOR  OF  **  SHE,"  **  ALLAN  QUATHRMAIN,"  "  MONTEZUMA's  DAUGHTER,"  ETC.,  ETC. 


With   16  full-page   Illustrations    by   Artlnur  Layard.     Crown 
8vo,  clothi,  ornamental,  $1.25. 


"  Out  of  Africa,  as  all  men  know,  the  thing  that  is  new  is  ever  forthcoming.  The  o\f 
style  is  true  with  regard  to  Mr.  Haggard's  romances,  and  everybody  concerned  is  to  be  con 
gratulated  upon  the  romancer's  return  to  the  magical  country  where  lies  the  land  of  Kor. 
Africa  is  Mr.  Haggard's  heaven  of  invention.  Let  him  be  as  prodigal  as  he  may,  thence 
flows  an  exhaustless  stream  of  romance,  rich  in  wonders  new  and  astonishing.  *  The  People 
of  the  Mist '  belongs  to  the  sphere  of  *  She '  in  its  imaginative  scope,  and,  as  an  example  of 
the  story-teller's  art,  must  be  reckoned  of  the  excellent  company  of  *  King  Solomon's 
Mines  '  and  its  brethren.  We  read  it  at  one  spell,  as  it  were,  hardly  resisting  that  effect  of 
fascination  which  invites  you,  at  the  critical  moments  of  the  story,  to  plunge  ahead  at  £ 
venture  to  know  what  is  coming,  and  be  resolved  as  to  some  harrowing  doubt  of  dilemma. 
There  is  no  better  test  of  the  power  of  a  story  than  this.     .     .     ." — Saturday  Review. 

**  The  lawyer,  the  physician,  the  business  man,  the  teacher,  find  in  these  novels,  teem- 
ing with  life  and  incident,  precisely  the  medicine  to  rest  tired  brains  and  *  to  take  them  out  of 
themselves.'  There  is,  perhaps,  no  writer  of  this  present  time  whose  works  are  read  more 
generally  and  with  keener  pleasure.  The  mincing  words,  the  tedious  conversations,  the 
prolonged  agony  of  didactic  discussion,  characteristic  of  the  ordinary  novel  of  the  time,  find 
no  place  in  the  crisp,  bright,  vigorous  pages  of  Mr.  Haggard's  books.  ...  *  The  People 
of  the  Mist' is  what  we  expect  and  desire  from  the  pen  of  this  writer  ...  a  deeply 
interesting  novel,  a  fitting  companion  to  *  Allan  Quatermain.'  " — Public  Opinion. 

"  The  story  of  the  combat  between  the  dwarf  Otter  and  the  huge  *  snake,'  a  crocodile 
of  antediluvian  proportions,  and  the  following  account  of  the  escape  of  the  Outram  party, 
is  one  of  the  best  pieces  of  dramatic  fiction  which  Mr.  Haggard  has  ever  written." — Bos- 
ton Advertiser. 

"  One  of  his  most  ingenious  fabrications  of  marvellous  adventure,  and  so  skilfully  is  it 
done  that  the  reader  loses  sight  of  the  improbability  in  the  keen  interest  of  the  tale.  Two 
loving  and  beautiful  women  figure  in  the  narrative,  and  in  his  management  of  the  heroine 
and  her  rival  the  author  shows  his  originality  as  well  as  in  the  sensational  element  which  is 
his  peculiar  province." — Boston  Beacon, 

"  *  The  People  of  the  Mist '  is  the  best  novel  he  has  written  since  *  She,'  and  it  runs 
that  famous  romance  very  close  indeed.  The  dwarf  Otter  is  fully  up  to  the  mark  of  Rider 
Haggard's  best  character,  and  his  fight  with  the  snake  god  is  as  powerful  as  anything  the 
author  has  written.  The  novel  abounds  in  striking  scenes  and  incidents,  and  the  read- 
er's interest  is  never  allowed  to  flag.  The  attack  on  the  slave  kraal  and  the  rescue  of  Juanna 
are  in  Mr.  Haggard's  best  vein," — Charleston  News. 

"  It  has  all  the  dash  and  go  of  Haggard's  other  tales  of  adventure,  and  few  readers  will 
be  troubled  over  the  impossible  things  in  the  story  as  they  follow  the  exciting  exploits  of  the 
hero  and  his  redoubtable  dwarf  Otter.  .  .  .  Otter  is  a  character  worthy  to  be  classed 
with  Umslopogus,  the  great  Zulu  warrior.  Haggard  has  never  imagined  anything  more  ter- 
ror-inspiring than  the  adventures  of  Leonard  and  his  party  in  the  awful  palace  of  the  Chil- 
dren of  Mist,  nor  has  he  ever  described  a  more  thrilling  combat  than  that  between  the  dwar] 
and  the  huge  water  snake  in  the  sacred  pool," — San  Francisco  Chronicle. 

_  *'  Itdisplays  all  of  this  popular  author's  imagery,  power  to  evoke  and  combine'miraculous 
incidents,  and  skill  in  analyzing  human  motives  and  emotions  in  the  most  striking  manner. 
He  is  not  surpassed  by  any  modern  writer  of  fiction  for  vividness  of  description  or  keenness 
of  perception  and  boldness  of  characterization.  The  reader  will  find  here  the  same  qualities 
in  full  measure  that  stamped  *  King  Solomon's  Mines,'  'Jess,'  '  She,'  and  his  other  earlier 
romances  with  their  singular  power.  The  narrative  is  a  series  of  scenes  and  pictures  ;  the 
events  are  strange  to  the  verge  of  ghoulishness  ;  the  action  of  the  story  is  tireless,  and  the 
reader  is  held  as  with  a  grip  not  to  be  shaken  off." — Boston  Courier. 

"  Sometimes  we  are  reminded  of '  King  Solomon's  Mines  *  and  sometimes  of  She,'  but  the 
mixture  has  the  same  elements  of  interest,  dwells  in  the  same  strange  land  of  mystery  and 
adventure,  and  appeals  to  the  same  public  that  buys  and  reads  Mr.  Haggard's  works  for  the 
sake  of  the  rapid  adventure,  the  strong  handling  of  improbable  incident,  and  the  fascination 
of  the  supernatural." — Baltimore  Sun, 


LONGMANS,  GEEEN,  &  CO.,  91-93  FIPTH  AYE.,  NEW  TOEK. 


THE   WIZARD. 

By  H.  rider  haggard, 

AUTHOR  OF    "SHE,"    "KING  SOLOMON'S  MINES,"    "  JOAN    HASTE,"   ETC.,  ETC. 

With   19  full-page  Illustrations  by  Charles  Kerr. 
Crown  8vo,  Cloth,  Ornamental,  $1.25. 

"I  owe  an  exciting,  delightful  evening  once  more  to  a  pen-say  a  voice-which 
has  heinfe  a  willing  prisoner  in  a  grasp  of  iron  It  is  now  ten  years  ago,  I  thuik, 
sUice  I  eave  Mr  Rider  Haggard  my  opinion  that  for  the  rest  of  his  hfe  he  would  have 
^Shl'  afways  w  th  him  to  be  compared  with  what  might  foll9w.  That  incomparable 
romance  hide^d  has  never  been  surpassed  by  any  living  writer.^  Rider  Haggard  is 
[hrpossessor  of  an  imagination  stronger,  more  vivid,. more  audacious  than  is  found  in 
inv  other  writer  of  the  time.  I  say  this  in  order  to  introduce  his  latest  work,  The 
wfiard  '  U^s  only  a  short  tale-too  short-but  it  shows  imaginative  power  that  makes 
U  worthy  to  fXw  after  '  She.'  "-Sir  Walter  Besant,  in  "  The  Queen." 

««  ThP  ^^pne  of  this  thrilling  story  is  laid  in  Africa,  but  in  many  respects  it  is  a  new 
deDartur^for  the  writer  f   .    has  never  written  anything  more  pathetic  or  with 

^Ser  force  thaS  th?s  tale  of  a  missionary  venture  and  a  martyr's  death.  The  Pass- 
fnTove?' istoldwi^^^^^  beauty  of  language  which  recalls  the  last  passages  m 

thi  lifl  of  the  martyred  BishSp  Hannington.  As  for  the  improbabilities,  well,  they  are- 
cleverly  old  and  we  are  not  afraid  to  say  that  we  rather  like  them  ;  but  Haggard  has- 
neJer  a^cWeved  a  conception  so  beautiful  as  that  of  Owen,  or  one  that  he  has  clothed 
with  so  great  a  semblance  of  life."-PACiFic  Churchman,  San  Francisco. 

Strike  a  responsive  chord  in  the  popular  heart  as  did  Ben  Hui,  and  snouia  oe  equ<iuy 
successful."— Brooklyn  Daily  Eagle. 

-It  is  to  be  read  at  onesittingwHhout  resisting  '^at  fa-i,m«on  w^^^^^^^^ 

^rS^^'oT^'^^ir^S^^^}^^  P""-'  — i.ora„a 
picturesqueness  comparable  to  that  of '  Allan  Q^'^^^'^^^i^^pjc^YUNE,  New  Orleans. 

'  It  has  all  the  spirit  and  movement  of  this^g)^P^ular  au^hor^^^^^^^^ 

*'  A  brilliant  story  truly,  and  ^ere  and  there  alive  with  e^^^^^^^^^  Mr^^ 

Haggard  describes  savage  combats  ^V^^^ntf^pd  childreA  of  nature  fighting  to  the  enm 
whin  he  shows  us  legion  after  legion  f  ""^^^^l  a  co^^^^^  as  the  belt  trained  solSers- 
death  with  uncouth  weapons  Vf^^.^h  as  dauntless  a  c^u    g       .^^^^  but,  after  all.  a 

reathVTr:imi\iSs^noTtX'sc^oSed  a^^^^  of  mei"-NEW  York  Hhralo. 

"  IS  as  full  of  adventure  as  the  most  ard     t  ad-ire-^tale^^^^^^^ 

could  desire.    As  its  title  ^"^P^^f^,  ^^J^^^^^^re     There  is  a  distinct  religious  element 
craft,  cunning,  and  knowledge  of  human  "ature^^    inere  ^^^^^  ^^  ^^  ^^^^^  „ 

throughout  the  book ;  indeed,  but  for  its  leiigious  mouvc  ^^^^^  Republican. 


LONGMANS,  GKEEN,  &  00.,  91-93  riTTH  AVE,  HEW  YOEZ. 


THE    JEWEL   OF   YNYS    GALON 

BESIVG   A    HITHERTO    UNPRINTED    CHAPTER    IN 
THE    HISTORY   OF   THE    SEA    ROVERS. 

By  OWEN   RHOSCOMYL. 


With  12  Illustrations  by  Lancelot  Speed. 
Crown  8vo,  Ciotli,  Ornamental,  $1.25. 

,M  .  *'fl^^^?^^  '^  exceptionally  vvell  told ;  the  descriptive  passages  are  strong;  and  viv- 
in  u  H  HU^'"^  over-elaborated  ;  and  the  recital  of  fights  and  adventures  on  s^I^ 
1  r-"  .' .  ^  f'^ -n  •^'  ^^^thout  leadnig  to  any  excess  of  horrors.  The  characters  in  thebook 
are  not  all  vilhans,  but  the  progress  of  the  narrative  is  lighted  up  by  the  deals  and 
stnvmgs  of  brave  and  honorable  men.  The  book  is  certahily  a  niost  attractive  addi^ 
lulil?r  '''a°'{  of  adventure  for  it.shovvs  a  fine  degree  of  imagination  on  the  part  of  the 
url^J--  ^  ?/f  "''t  ""^  ^r ^  Illustrations  by  Lancelot  Speed  will  alone  be  enough  to  ?ncul 
areadmgofthestoryfrombegnmingto  end."— The  Beacon,  Boston.   "^" '"^ '"^"^ 

^-  r  ^^  ^^A^^^!^  °^  genius-of  the  romantic-realistic  school.  The  storv  is  one  of 
pirates  and  buried  treasure  in  an  island  off  the  coast  of  Wales,  and  so  well  is  it  dot?e 
that  It  fascinates  the  reader,  putting  him  under  an  hypnotic  spell,  lasting  lono-after^he 
''?'?^,^^w  ^"  ^^'"^  ^,'J^^-  i^  ^"  dedicated  to  'every  one  whose  blood  r1>uset  a  a  tall 
of  tall  fights  and  reckless  adventure,'  to  men  and  boys  alike,  yet  there  wilf  be  keene? 
appreciation  by  the  boys  of  larger  growth,  whose  d?eams  '  of  buried  treasure  and  of 
one  day  discovering  some  hoard  whereby  to  become  rich  beyond  imaghSn  ^  have 
become  dim  and  blurred  in  the  'toil  and  struggle  for  subsistence.'  '  Thf  jTweTof  Y^^^^ 
Galon'  IS  one  of  the  great  books  of  1895  and  will  live  long.  "-The  World,  New  York! 
^,  *!  It  is  a  splendid  story  of  the  sea,  of  battle  and  hidden  treasure  This  nirfnr*^  of 
fndl^Z^iT  '"^  '''''T  ''  »^ost  skillfully  drawn  in  transparent  and  simpIe^EngHsh 
and  It  holds  from  cover  to  cover  the  absorbed  interest  of  the  reader."        ^'^  ^ngiisn. 

,,^  .  —Press,  Philadelphia. 

wnrf^'^^H  Rhoscomyl  has  just  the  talents  for  writing  books  of  this  kind  andthevare 
worth  a  dozen  of  some  of  the  books  of  to-day  where  life  flow-  slnJrtichw'n.t,\v,  o^^« 
ing-room.    When  the  author  writes  another  ^wlwantt?  know  of  if^^'^l^iSL  "boston" 

,       .  —Times,  Philadelphia. 

«et    The  Jewel  of  Ynys  Galon  ■  andVd  if     You  wilTL^be  disappoin^e°d"''  °°°"'' 

„-  .  —Gazette,  Colorado  Springs,  Col. 

ni«ht.°  Throw  Terfek'er'sDiri?kroi"H  '"  if"^  I'  ^'1  ?'«!"«  'hat  went  far  into  the 

LONGMANS,  6KEEN ,  &  00.,  91-93  PIFTH  AYeTuEW  YOEZ. 


THE  VIOLET. 

A  Novel. 
By   JULIA   MAGRUDER, 

AUTHOR  OF  "  PRINCESS  SONIA,"  ETC. 


With   1  1  Illustrations  by  Charles  Dana  Gibson.    Crown  8vo, 
Cloth,  Ornamental,  Gilt  Top,  $  1 .25. 

"Julia  Magruder  has  made  a  very  pretty  story  of '  The  Violet  '—a  story  with  just 
those  touches  of  graceful  sentiment  that  are  sure  to  gratify  the  girl  reader.  ...  It 
is  a  pleasure  to  come  upon  a  romance  so  pure  in  motive,  so  refined  in  sentiment,  and 
so  delicate  in  manner  .  .  .  and  the  book  has  an  added  charm  in  the  illustrations 
by  Charles  Dana  Gibson,  who  seems  to  have  caught  the  spirit  of  the  text  to  a  nicety, 
and  to  have  interpreted  it  with  an  admirably  sympathetic  technique." 

—  Beacon,  Boston. 

"Julia  Magruder  has  given  her  readers  a  charming  story  in  '  The  Violet ' — one  as 
sweet  and  simple  and  lovely  as  the  modest  flower  itself.  .  .  .  It  is  a  beautiful 
■character  study,  breathing  forth  the  fragrance  of  womanly  sweetness  in  every  phrase. 
The  illustrations  by  Gibson  are  apt,  and  the  binding  and  make-up  of  the  book  appro- 
priately attractive."— Times,  Boston. 

"  Is  a  good,  wholesome  love  story.  The  plot  is  natural  and  the  characters  real. 
.  .  .  '  The  Violet '  is  a  study  which  the  reader  may  wish  could  have  been  pro- 
longed."—Eagle,  Brooklyn. 

"  A  story  altogether  as  beautiful  and  inspiring  as  its  name  .  .  .  one  of  the 
most  charming  books  of  the  season,  as  it  is  an  old  fashioned  story  with  a  delicious  bit 
of  mystery  interwoven  with  the  romance  of  a  young  heroine  who,  though  poor,  pos- 
sesses every  grace  and  accomplishment." — Courier,  Boston. 

*'  It  is  a  pure,  sweet  story,  with  a  fragrance  as  of  violets  clinging  to  it,  and  it  de- 
lightfully sets  forth  the  attributes  of  true  manhood  and  true  womanhood." 

—Home  Journal,  N.  Y. 


DOREEN. 

The  Story  of  a  Singer. 
By   EDNA   LYALL, 

author  OF  "we  two,"  "  DONOVAN,"  "THE  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  A  SLANDER,"  "  IN 
THE  GOLDEN  DAYS,"  ETC.,  ETC. 


Crown  8vo,  Buckram  Cloth,  Ornamental,  $1  .50. 

"  A  plot  which  has  original  life  and  vigor.  .  .  .  Altogether  a  good  novel,  and 
if  the  author  had  written  nothing  else  she  could  safely  rest  her  literary  reputation  on 
*  Doreen.'  "—Public  Opinion,  N.  Y. 

"  Edna  LyalFs  .  .  .  new  story  .  .  .  is  one  of  her  best.  It  has,  naturally, 
enough  of  tragedy  to  make  it  intensely  interesting  without  being  sensational  in  any 
offensive  sense.  The  heroine,  Doreen,  is  a  delightful  character,  sturdy,  strong,  lovable, 
womanly,  and  genuinely  Irish.  Miss  Bayly  is  a  conscientious  writer,  imbued  with 
deep  feeling,  a  high  purpose,  and  her  style  is  attractive  and  pure." 

—Boston  Daily  Advertiser. 

*'  It  is  a  very  clever  story  indeed,  and  skillfully  written." 

—New  Orleans  Picayune. 

"  This  is  perhaps  one  of  the  best  of  Edna  Lyall's  clever  stories.  Doreen  is  a  young 
Irish  girl,  who  loves  her  native  land,  and  who  is  a  credit  to  her  race.  .  .  .  Inter- 
woven with  the  story  of  her  experience  and  of  her  love  for  a  young  Englishman  is  an 
interesting  account  of  the  rise  and  progress  of  the  Home  Rule  movement.  Miss  Lyall's 
book  is  a  charming  tale,  and  will  not  fail  to  delight  every  one  who  reads  it.  The  girl 
Doreen  is  a  beautiful  character."— Catholic  News. 


LONGMANS,  GEEEN,  &  00.,  91-93  FIFTH  AVE.,  NEW  YORK. 


WHAT  NECESSITY  KNOWS, 

A  Novel  of  Canadian  Life  and  Character. 

Bv  MISS   L.    DOUGALL, 

AUTHOR   OF   "  BEGGARS  ALL." 


Crown  8vo,  Cloth,  $1.00. 

"  A  very  remarkable  novel,  and  not  a  book  that  can  be  lightly  classified  or  ranged  widi 
Other  modern  works  of  fiction.  .  .  .  It  is  a  distinct  creation  ...  a  structure  ol 
noble  and  original  design  and  of  grand  and  dignified  conception.  .  .  .  The  book  bristles 
with  epigrammatic  sayings  which  one  would  like  to  remember.  ...  It  will  appeal 
strongly  by  force  of  its  originality  and  depth  of  insight  and  for  the  eloquence  and  dignity  of 
style  in  the  descriptive  passages." — Manchester  Guardian,  London. 

•'  We  think  we  are  well  within  the  mark  in  saying  that  this  novel  is  one  of  the  three  or 
four  best  novels  of  the  year.  The  social  atmosphere  as  well  as  the  external  conditions  of 
Canadian  life  are  reproduced  faithfully.  The  author  is  eminently  thoughtful,  yet  the  story 
is  not  distinctively  one  of  moral  purpose.  The  play  of  character  and  the  clash  of  purpose  are 
finely  wrought  out.  .  .  .  What  gives  the  book  its  highest  value  is  really  the  author^s 
deep  knowledsre  of  motive  and  character.  The  reader  continually  comes  across  keen  obser- 
vations and  subtle  expressions  that  not  infrequently  recall  George  Eliot.  The  novel  is  one 
that  is  worth  reading  a  second  time."— Outlook,  New  York. 

•'  Keen  analysis,  deeu  spiritual  insight,  and  a  quick  sense  of  beauty  in  nature  and 
human  nature  are  combined  to  put  before  us  a  drama  of  human  life  .  .  .  the  book  is  not 
only  interesting  but  stimulating,  not  only  strong:  but  suggestive,  and  we  may  say  of  the 
writer,  in  Sidney  Lanier's  wcrds,  '  She  shows  man  what  he  may  be  in  terms  of  what  he  is.** 

—Literary  World,  Boston. 

NADA    THE    LILY. 

By  H.  rider  haggard, 

author  op   "  SHE,"   "  ALLAN  QUATERMAIN,"  ETC. 

With   23  full-page    Illustrations,  by   C.  H.  M.  Kerr. 
1  2mo,  Ciothv  Ornamental  (Copyright),  $  1  .OO. 

"  A  thrilling  book  full  .  .  .  of  almost  incredible  instances  of  personal  daring  and  of 
wonderful  revenge.  .  .  .  The  many  vigorous  illustrations  add  much  to  the  interest  of  a 
book  that  may  safely  be  denominated  as  Mr.  Haggard's  most  successful  venture  in  the 
writing  of  fiction."— Boston  Beacon. 

"  The  story  of  '  Nada  the  Lily '  is  full  of  action  and  adventure  ;  the  plot  is  cleverly 
"Vrought  and  the  fighting  and  adventure  are  described  with  spirit.  Once  begun  it  is,  indeed, 
a  story  to  be  finished." — N.  Y.  Tribune. 

*•  The  story  is  a  magnificent  effort  of  the  imagination  and  quite  the  best  of  all  that  Mr. 
Haggard  has  done.  There  is  no  example  of  manufactured  miracle  in  this  story,  for  the  stor^- 
of  the  Ghost  mountain,  the  Stone  Witch,  and  the  Wolves  is  nothing  but  the  folk-lore  of  the 
African  tribes,  and  m  no  respect  similar  to  the  wonders  which  the  author  introduced  into 
the  stories  in  which  Allan  Quatermain  figures." — Springfield  Republican. 

"  To  my  mind  the  realization  of  savage  existence  and  the  spirit  of  it  have  never  been  so 
honsstly  and  accurately  set  forth.  The  Indians  of  Chateaubriand,  and  even  of  Cooper,  are 
conventional  compared  with  these  blood-thirsty,  loyal,  and  fatalistic  Zulus.  .  .  .  The 
whole  legend  seems  to  me  to  be  a  curiously  veracious  reproduction  of  Zulu  life  and  character.* 

— Mr.  Andrew  Lang  in  the  New  Review. 

*'  Rider  Haggard's  latest  story  .  .  .  has  a  more  permanent  value  than  anything 
thi%  prolific  author  has  previously  given  to  the  public.  He  has  preserved  in  this  latest 
romance  many  of  the  curious  tales,  traditions,  superstitions,  the  wonderful  folk-lore  of  a 
nation  now  extinct,  a  people  rapidly  melting  away  before  an  advancing  tide  of  civilization. 
The  romance  into  which  Mr.  Haggard  has  wovea  valuable  material  is  in  his  own  inimitable 
Style,  and  will  delight  those  who  love  the  weirdly  improbable." — Boston  Traveller. 


LOIGMANS,  GEEEN,  &  CO.,  91-93  IIPTH  AYE.,  NEW  TOEK. 


HEART   OF  THE   WORLD. 

A    STORY    OF    MEXICAN    ADVENTURE. 

By  H.  rider  haggard, 

A'.TTHOR  OF   •♦she,"    '*  MONTEZUMA'S    DAUGHTER,"    "  THE    PEOPLE  OF  THE  MIST."   BTC, 


With  1  3  full-page   Illustrations  by  Amy  Sawyer. 
12mo,  Cloth,  Ornamental,  $1.25. 


*»  The  adventures  of  Ignatio  and  his  white  friend  will  compare  for  strangeness  with  any 
that  the  writer  has  imagined.  And  the  invention  of  the  city  and  people  of  the  heart,  of  the 
secret  order,  with  its  ritual  and  history,  and  the  unforeseen  crisis  of  the  tale,  shows  that  tke 
quality  that  most  distinguishes  the  author's  former  works  is  still  his  m  abundance.  .  .. 
The  tale  as  a  whole  is  so  effective  that  we  willingly  overlook  its  improbability,  and  so  novel 
that  even  those  who  have  read  all  of  Rider  Haggard's  former  works  will  still  find  something 
surprising  in  this."— The  Critic. 

♦'  Here  are  strange  adventures  and  wonderful  heroisms.  The  scene  is  laid  in  Mexico. 
The  storv  rehearses  the  adventures  of  an  athletic  Enchshman  who  loves  and  weds  an 
Indian  prmcess.  There  are  marvelous  descriptions  of  the  '  City  of  the  Heart,'  a  mysteri- 
ous town  hemmed  in  by  swamps  and  unknown  mountains.  ' 

— COMMEKCIAL    ADVERTISER,    NEW    YORK. 

-  Has  a  rare  fascination,  and  in  using  that  theme  Mr.  Haggard  ^^^  not  only  hit  upon 
a  storv  of  peculiar  charm,  but  he  has  also  wrought  out  a  story  original  and  delightful  to 
even  the  most  jaded  reader  of  the  novel  of  incident."-ADVERTisER,  Boston. 

"  It  is  a  fascinating  tale,  and  the  reader  will  not  want  to  put  the  book  down  till  he  has 
read  the  last  word."— Picayune,  New  Orleans. 

"  The  lovers  of  Rider  Haggard's  glowing  works  have  no  reason  to  complain  of  his  latest 
book.  I         The  story  ?s.  If  I  in  all,  one  of  the  most  entertaining  of  the  author's  whole 

list."— Traveller,  Boston. 

-  In  its  splendor  of  description,  weirdness  of  imagery,  its  f^^t^'^^^J^^Xut'^dou^fifi 
and  the  love  story  which  blends  with  history  and  fantasy  the  book  ^»^h?"^  .^^"^^^f  * 
creation  distinct  ilom  previous  tales.  Maya,  the  Lady  of  the  Heart,  is  an  ideal  character. 
,    .    .     Interest  is  sustained  throughout."— Post,  Chicago. 

"The  success  of  Mr.  Haggard's  stories  consists  in  the  spirit  of  adventure  which  runs 
through  them!Tth1ir  rapid  !?ccession. of   incidents,  in    the  bustle  which   -.ma  es  the^ 

doA  of  anTncTenT^A^Jec  tradition  concerning  the  concealed  existence  of  a  wonderful  Golden 
^ity     .     .     ,"— Mail  and  Express,  New  York. 

..  A  thrilling  story  of  adventure  in  Mexico.     It ^ is  doubt^^^^^^^^  surpassed  in  vrv^d 

coloring  his  deUneation  of  the  cnaracter  of 'Maya.      1  his  work  is  reany 
to  the  great  body  of  romance  with  which  his  name  is  associated.  -Press,  Fhiladelphia. 

"  This  romance  is  really  one  of  the  best  he  has  given  us."-Times.  Philadelphia. 

.'  When  the  love  of  romance  shall  die  in  the  hviman  heart  ll^^^^h  onZt^n^t^n  lm{ 
is  best  in  fiction.     .     .     .     In  this  story  we  have  the  same  reckless  dash  of^m^^^^^^ 
the  same  gorgeous  profusion  of  barbaric,  scenes  and  startling  adventure  which  nave  y 

characterized  Mr.  Haggard's  works."  —Independent.  New  York. 

-  His  latest,  and  one  of  his  most  powerful  stories.     It  shows  the  same  trenchant  effectwe 
way  of  dealing  with  his  story  ;    and    the.  --^^  P^^  J "/^f^j;'  ^wdUs  orthrmore  m^d- 
give  the  reader  some  new  idea  of  that  ancient  peoole.  the  ^z  ecs,  as  wen  ^ 
cm  Mexicans.     It  is  as  strong  as  '  King  Solomon's  Mines.'    -1  imes,  Hartford. 

LONGMANS,  GEEEN,  &  CO.,  91-93  riETH  AYE.,  NEW  TOEK. 


MONTEZUMA'S    DAUGHTER 

By  H.  rider  haggard, 

AUTHOR  OF**  SHE,"  *' ALLAN  QUATERMAIN,"  "  NADA  THE  LILY,"  ETC. 


With  24-  full-page  Illustrations  and  Vignette  by  Maurice 
Greiffenhagen.     Crown  8vo,  Cloth,  $1.25. 

"Adventures  that  stir  the  reader's  blood  and,  like  magic  spells,  hold  his  attention  with 
power  so  strong  that  only  the  completion  of  the  novel  can  satisfy  his  interest.  ...  In 
this  novel  the  motive  of  revenge  is  treated  with  a  subtle  power  .  .  .  this  latest  production 
of  Mr.  Haggard  blends  with  the  instruction  of  the  historical  novel  the  charm  of  a  splendid 
romance." — Public  Opinion. 

"  Mr.  Haggard  has  done  nothing  better  .  ,  ,  it  may  well  be  doubted  if  he  has  ever 
done  anything  half  so  good.  The  tale  is  one  of  the  good,  old-fashioned  sort,  filled  with  the 
elements  of  romance  and  adventure,  and  it  moves  on  from  one  thrilling  situation  to  another 
with  a  celerity  and  verisimilitude  tliat  positively  fascinate  the  reader.  .  .  .  The  story  is 
told  with  astonishing  variety  of  detail,  and  in  its  main  lines  keeps  close  to  historical  truth. 
The  author  has  evidently  written  with  enthusiasm  and  entire  love  of  his  theme,  and  the  result 
is  a  really  splendid  piece  of  romantic  literature.  The  illustrations,  by  Maurice  GreifFenhagen, 
are  admirable  in  spirit  and  technique." — Boston  Beacon. 

*'  Has  a  good  deal  of  the  quality  that  lent  such  interest  to  *  King  Solomon's  Mines '  and 
*  Allan  Quarermain.'  .  .  .  England,  Spain,  and  the  country  which  is  now  Mexico  afford 
the  field  of  the  story,  and  a  great  number  of  most  romantic  and  blood-stirring  activities  occur 
in  each  ...  a  successful  story  well  constructed,  full  of  devious  and  exciting  action, 
and  we  believe  that  it  wUl  find  a  multitude  of  appreciative  readers." — Sun,  N.  Y, 

*  It  is  a  tale  of  adventure  and  romance,  with  a  fine  historical  setting  and  with  a  vivid 
reproduction  of  the  manners  and  people  of  the  age.  The  plot  is  handled  with  dexterity  and 
slull,  and  the  reader's  interest  is  always  seen.  There  is,  it  should  also  be  noted,  nothing  like 
mlgar  sensationalism  in  the  treatment,  and  the  literary  quality  is  sound  throughout. 

Among  the  very  best  stories  of  love,  war,  and  romance  that  have  been  written." 

— ^The  Outlook. 

**  Is  the  latest  and  best  of  that  popular  writer's  works  of  fiction.  It  enters  a  new 
field  not  before  touched  by  previous  tales  from  the  same  author.  In  its  splendor  of  descrip- 
tion, weirdness  of  imagery,  and  wealth  of  startling  incidents  it  rivals  *  King  Solomon's  Mines  ' 
and  other  earlier  stories,  but  shows  superior  strength  in  many  respects,  and  presents  novelty 
of  scene  that  must  win  new  and  more  enduring  fame  for  its  talented  creator.  .  .  .  Ihe 
analysis  of  human  motives  and  emotions  is  more  subtle  in  this  work  than  in  any  previous 
production  by  Mr.  Haggard.  The  story  will  generally  be  accorded  highest  literary  rank 
among  the  author's  works,  and  will  prove  of  fascinating  interest  to  a  host  of  readers." 

— Minneapolis  Spectator. 

**  Is  full  of  the  magnificence  of  the  Aztec  reign,  and  is  quite  as  romantic  and  unbelievable 
as  the  most  fantastic  of  his  earlier  creations." — Book  BuvtR. 

*' We  should  be  disposed  to  rank  this  volume  next  to  'King  Solomon's  Mines'  in  order 
of  interest  and  merit  among  the  author's  works." — Literary  World.  Boston. 

**  It  is  decidedly  the  most  powerful  and  enjoyable  book  that  Mr.  Rider  Haggard  has 
written,  with  the  single  exception  of  '  Jess.'  " — Academy. 

•'  Mr.  Haggard  has  rarely  done  anything  better  than  this  romantic  and  interesting  narra 
tive.  Throughout  the  story  we  are  hurried  from  one  thrilling  experience  to  another,  and  the 
whole  book  is  written  at  a  level  of  sustained  passion,  which  gives  it  a  very  absorbing  hold  on 
our  imagination.     A  special  word  of  praise  ought  to  be  given  to  the  excellent  illustrations." 

—Daily  Telegraph. 

**  Perhaps  the  best  oi  all  the  author's  stories. 

The  great  distinguishing  quality  of  Rider  Haggard  is  this  magic  power  of  seizing  and 
holding  his  readers  so  that  they  become  absorbed  and  abstracted  from  all  earthly  things  while 
their  eyes  devour  the  page.  ...  A  romance  must  have  'grip.'  .  .  .  This  romance 
possesses  the  quality  of  'grip'  in  an  eminent  degree."— Walter  Besant  in  the  Author. 

*'The  story  is  both  graphic  and  exciting,  .  .  .  and  teils  of  the  invasion  of  Cortes; 
but  there  are  antecedent  passages  in  England  and  Spain,  for  the  hero  is  an  English  adven- 
turer who  finds  his  way  through  Spain  to  Mexico  on  a  vengeful  quest.  The  vengeance  is  cer- 
tainly satisfactory,  but  it  is  not  reached  until  the  hero  has  had  as  surprising  a  scries  of  perils 
ttnd  escapes  as  even  the  fertile  imagination  of  the  author  ever  devised." — Dial,  Chicago. 


LONGMANS,  aEEEN,  &  CO.,  91-93  ririH  AVE.,  Hfi¥  TOUZ. 


BATTLEMENT  AND  TOWER. 

A   ROMANCE. 

By  OWEN  RHOSCOMYL, 

AUTHOR    OF    "the    JEWEL    OF    YNYS    GALON." 


With   Frontispiece    by    R.    Caton   Woodville.      12mo,   Cloth, 
Ornamental,  $1.25. 


"  It  is  a  rare  tale  of  the  wars  of  the  Commonwealth.  The  hero  Howel,  is  ayoung 
Welsh  lord  whose  father  gives  him  his  hereditary  sword  and  shield,  and  sends  him  to 
Sttle  fo?  thrking.  His  allventures  in  love  and  war  are  intensely  fascinating,  and  the 
readlrouts  down  the  book  with  extreme  reluctance.  The  auth9r  has  carefully  studied 
[Sh'story  of  the  times,  and,  besides  being  a  thrilling  tae,  his  story  is  a  charming 
^^ToRl^l  manners  and  customs  of  the  day.    It  is  aW  well  wor^^^^^^^^ 

a  powerful  romance  by  Owen  Rhoscomyl  of  the  swashbuckling  days  in 
North  Wales  when  the  Roundheads  warred  against  the  Cavaliers,  and  Charles  I.  ot 

hterarv  ouf  h  g  v4n  to  his  work  by  the  author  places  his  product  far  above  the  average 
o  rh"/?na^r; taL' o"f  f^ke  character^  that  are  now  stn ving  to  satisfy  the  present  demand 
for  fiction  that  has  power  without  prurience."— World,  New  York. 

"There  is  a  vein  of  very  pretty  romance  which  runs  through  the  more  stirring 
scenes  of  ba  tie  and  of  siege.  ^The  novel  is  certainly  to  be  widely  read  by  those  who 
lo?e  the  tale  of  a  welUfought  battle  and  of  gallant  youth  in  the  days  when  men  carved 
thdr  way  to  fanfe^nd  fortune  with  a  sword."-ADVERTisER,  Boston. 

a  rattling  story  of  adventure,  privation,  and  peril  in  the  wild  Welsh 

fiction."— Commercial  Advertiser,  New  York. 

"  There  is  a  flavor  of  old  world  chivalry  in  his  t-Pestuo^^« -<^--|,-^^^^^^^^^^ 
imperious  Barbara,  a  charming  love  idyl.    .     .     .    Jf  e  f  ot  Diooa  o^ine  v 

upon  each  other."-FREE  Press,  Detroit.  ^ 

"  Owen  Rhoscomyl,  who  wrote  an  excellent  ^aje  when  he  penned^    The  Jewel  o 
Ynys    Galon,'  has  followed    it    with    another,   different    ,n   kina    Dui   us  eq 
degree.    .    .'   .    Deals  with  an  entirely  different  phase  «[^  ^^^^Vo?  merit   a^d  is 
former  story,  for  it  enters  the  domain  of  history.    .    •  ,  ; ,  ".if-J,'^'*  ""'   ""  .    The  plat 
entitled  to  pass  muster  as  one  of  the  successful  novels  of  the  season^    .    .  j^JJ 

^pT^^r':  ^"^^'fhVlt^or7w?l7aV"peaTr^^^^^^  of  romance  and  a/- 

venture." — Brooklyn  Eagle.  ,  .  ^  ^..„.«^- 

"  He  calls  his  book  a  '  mosaic,' and  if  such  it  be  its  .«to"f  ,^\;,»Jf  ,H  dic^^^^^^^^ 
strange  ways,  and  weird  legends  of  the  Welsh,  welded  by  st^^^^^^  j^^^ 

colorld  with  the  pigments  of  a  brilliant  ^^^^Z^^^^y^lZXtlrS^^^         reader.    And 

are  powerfully  portrayed,  availing  each  other  in  the  interes^^^^  dust  of  time, 

though  the  heroes  and  their  castles  have  l;;"^?  ^^J"  ^""fi,^^^^^ 

this  writer  sends  an  electric  current  through  hj^Pages  making  ev^^^^  ^ 

roundings  alive  again.   He  brings  each  suc^^ess we  phase  of  ad v^"^^^^^^  ^^^ory  anci 

before  the  imagination,  clad  m  language  that  impresses  iiseii  up 

makes  the  book  fascinating."-REPUBLicAN,  Denver.  . 

"  His  story  is  a  stirring  one,  full  of  events,  alive  with  action,  and  gilded  with  sen 
timent  of  romance."— Courier,  Boston. 

LONaMANS,  GREEN,  &  00.,  91-9315x1  AVE.,  NEW  TOEK. 


FOR  THE  WHITE  ROSE  OF  ARNO 

A  Story  of  the  Jacobite  Rising  of  1  74-5 
By   OWEN    RHOSCOMYL 

AUTHOR  OF  "THE   JEWEL   OF  YNYS    GALON,"  "  BATTLEMENT  AND  TOWER," 

ETC. 


Crown  8vo,  cloth,  ornamental,  $1.25 


"  His  *  Jewel  of  Ynys  Galon,'  was  a  splendid  story  of  piracy  on  the  Welsh  coast. 
His  '  Battlement  and  Tower '  was  a  good  story  of  Prince  Rupert's  day.  ...  A  third 
romance,  '  For  the  White  Rose  of  Arno,'  a  story  of  the  Jacobite  rising  of  1745,  is  pic- 
turesque and  exciting.  It  can  be  recommended  to  every  lover  of  a  fine  romantic  melo- 
drama."—Express,  Buffalo,  N.Y. 

*'  There  are  plenty  of  stirring  events  in  the  story,  love,  treachery,  and  revenge 
fighting  at  gross-purposes.  One  of  the  most  graphic  descriptions  is  that  of  the  wed- 
ding of  the  hero  and  heroine.  Mr.  Rhoscomyl  has  a  picturesque  imagination,  and  he 
paints  vividly  with  bold,  true  strokes.  .  .  .  The  author  has  studied  the  period  of 
which  he  writes  with  great  care.  He  has  not  allowed  his  imagination  to  run  away 
with  historical  facts,  and  the  book  will  appeal  not  only  to  lovers  of  romance  and  adven- 
ture, but  to  students  of  English  history."— Gazette,  Colorado  Springs. 

"The  *  White  Rose  of  Arno  '  will  delight  all  lovers  of  a  good  romantic  novel." 

— Eagle,  Brooklyn,  N.  Y. 

"...  in  this  tale  we  are  given  a  most  stirring  picture  of  the  time  of  Charles 
Edward,  the  Pretender,  and  his  devoted  supporters.  Nearly  all  of  the  incidents  take 
place  amid  the  hills  and  vales  of  beautiful  Wales,  and  the  contrast  between  scenery 
and  wild  human  passions  does  much  to  heighten  the  effect  of  the  story,  which  is  very 
well  told.  The  author  is  a  Welshman,  and  the  scenes  he  depicts  one  feels  still  burn 
within  his  soul ;    hence  his  narrative  is  in  the  highest  degree  animated  and  forceful." 

—Evening  Transcript,  Boston. 

"...  The  story  never  lags  for  a  moment,  nor  sags  from  its  pitch  of  high 
heroism  .  .  .  Some  of  the  scenes  rival  those  others,  well  known,  and,  indeed, 
famous  in  '  David  Balfour,'  and  '  Kidnapped.'  .  .  .  It  is  a  splendid  story.  .  .  . 
Prince  Charles  figures  more  as  a  shadow  in  the  background  than  a  leader,  but  he  im- 
presses himself  vividly  as  a  great  personal  inspiration."— Times-Herald,  Chicago. 

'*  Owen  Rhoscomyl  has  already  written  some  rare  stories  of  the  wars  of  the  Com- 
monwealth that  have  met  with  a  splendid  showing  of  practical  appreciation  by  a 
world-wide  circle  of  readers.  This  latest  novel  by  the  pleasing  Welsh  writer  is  one  of 
the  most  powerful  romances  that  have  emanated  from  his  pen,  and  will  doubtless  re- 
ceive as  graceful  a  welcome  to  fiction  literature  as  his  previous  efforts  have  done.  It 
is  a  stirring  story  of  Wales  when  the  Roundheads  were  warring  against  the  cavaliers, 
and  Charles  I  of  England  lost  his  head  and  his  coveted  throne.  The  story  is  brimful 
of  fighting,  of  hard  travel  and  riding,  and  old-time  love  making,  and  the  flavor  of  old 
world  chivalry  in  the  tenderer  portions  of  the  novel  is  charming  and  complete.  With 
the  pen  of  a  realist,  the  author  hurries  his  readers  back  to  live  over  the  dead,  old  wars, 
to  dwell  in  strange  Welsh  castles  that  long  ago  crumbled  into  dust,  and  to  view  the 
history  and  romances  of  those  early  days  as  something  tangible  with  our  own  exist- 
ences. The  style  is  always  active,  virile  and  picturesque,  and  there  is  not  a  dull  or 
tame  chapter  in  the  book."— Courier,  Boston. 

••The  story  is  told  with  spirit,  and  holds  the  attention  without  effort.  The  action 
is  swift,  the  episodes  stirring,  the  character  drawing  admirable,  and  the  style  good. 
The  ultimate  defeat  of  the  Pretender,  and  the  final  denouement  are  tragic  in  their 
intensity,  and  powerfully  pictured."— Brooklyn  Times. 

"  This  is  a  really  stirring  story,  full  of  wild  adventure,  yet  having  an  atmosphere 
of  historic  truthfulness,  and  conveying  incidentally  a  good  deal  of  information  that  is 
evidently  based  upon  fresh  study." — Times,  Philadelphia. 


LONGMANS,  GREEN,  &  00.,  91-93  FIPTH  AVENUE,  NEW  YOEK. 


